


Beauty and the Beast

by ToothPasteCanyon (DannyFenton123)



Series: Transcendence AU [24]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Gen, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-05-07 15:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19212397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyFenton123/pseuds/ToothPasteCanyon
Summary: Alcor meets Mizar. It's a tale as old as time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Potentially triggering content - scroll to endnotes for further details.

                Alcor the Dreambender is immortal. The centuries stretch out before him, and he sometimes he gets bored by the sheer length of it all. He meets Mizars, pranks cultists, travels the world, does all the fun things a being of infinite power can do. He makes the most of this strange life he’s been forced to live.

                Decades pass like this, and when he’s burnt out and heartbroken, when his Mizar breathes her last and slips peacefully back into the reincarnation cycle, he’d love nothing more than to follow her. To rest, for a while.

                But he can’t. His lifetime is unending; there is no rest for him. Centuries upon centuries, millennia upon endless millennia lay before him, and there is no rest for him.

                He tries to rest. He hides away in his Mindscape, and he _drifts_.

                He drifts, and forgets how to think like a human.

                He drifts, and forgets the feeling of a hug, of a friend.

                He drifts, and centuries pass in the blink of an eye.

                He drifts....

                …

                And slowly, he rouses.

                It’s easy to drift.

                If only it was as easy to wake up.

* * *

 

                “ _Basden_!”

                A man is straightening his tie in the bedroom. He jumps and jerks down at the sound of a voice - the tie strangles him for a second and he struggles with it.

                “Ja-Jannie?” He croaks. “What’s the matter?”

                “What’s the matter? _What’s the matter_? Look at the time, you dimwit! You’re going to miss your flight!”

                “No, no, I-I have-” He stubs his toes on the dresser. “Plenty! Ow, plenty of time, I-”

                “What’s taking you so long! Get down here!”

                Basden takes a look at his tie, smooths it out, then hops over to the door. “Okay, I’m coming down now!”

                He staggers down the hall, wincing and cursing at the pain in his foot. The stairs are up ahead, and he can hear voices echoing from below.

                “-dress is itchy, Mom…”

                “Oh, quit your whining, Pauline, it looks beautiful on you.”

                “Yeah, it looks pretty. Pretty itchy!”

                “ _Marla_!”

                “Jan-et! Look at me, I can emphasise words too!”

                “You shut your mouth right now, young lady, or when your father comes downstairs… _Basden, where are you?!_ ”

                Basden pops over the balcony and gives a wave. “Right here, Jannie! Sorry!”

                Three figures stare up at him as he hurries down the stairs. Janet, a tall woman in the middle with her arms clasped together, springs for his briefcase by the door.

                “There you are, finally! Don’t forget this!”

                “Yes, I put it by the door so I wouldn’t-” He grabs it after she almost flings it at him. “Uh, thank you. Thank you.”

                “Hmph.” Janet looks him up and down, her lips pursed together. “Your tie looks terrible, Basden.”

                “Oh, sorry. I was rushing, I-”

                “I’ll fix it.” She pulls him in close, muttering, “Just like I fix everything in this damn house.”

                “O-oh, um....”

                He blushes, and looks over Janet’s shoulder. Two other figures are standing awkwardly by the door, some distance apart. There’s Pauline, who’s making a face as she fiddles with her dress, and Marla. Marla is taller, broader, wearing a hoodie, but it’s the flower-patterned hoodie instead of one of her messier ones - her favourite, he knows. Her arms are crossed, and a wry smile snakes across her face as she watches Pauline pull at a strap. At this angle, he can see her red-and-yellow striped eartag through her hair; the florescent colours shine through, impossible to hide.

                Basden watches her watch Pauline for another moment longer, then with an eyeroll, she extends a hand to help. Pauline shies away, and Marla crosses her arms again. She looks at Basden and shrugs at him, like _welp, I tried._

                The gesture makes him chuckle. She sticks out her tongue.

                “There,” With a hard tug, Janet brings him back to the conversation. “Two seconds and that looks so much better. You’re so careless sometimes, Basden.”

                “You, uh, I thought you wanted me to hurry?”

                “Yes I did, but that takes two seconds!” She heaves a sigh. “Nevermind, let me say goodbye to you. Have a nice trip, dear. Call me when you get off the plane, or make my brother do it.”

                “I will.” He kisses her. “I love you.”

                “I love you too. You know, there’s so many lovely places to shop in London - make sure you bring something nice back for us. Pauline?”

                Pauline blinks. “Yes, Mom?”

                “Why don’t you tell your father you want some nice new clothes?” Janet’s lips curve down. “Since apparently all the ones you have are ‘itchy’ and not good enough for you.”

                “O-oh, no, they’re fine! They’re fine, I just-”

                “Hey,” Marla leans in. “Can you bring me back some English chocolate?”

                Janet scowls at her. “Don’t interrupt your sister, Marla.”

                “Just sayin’, that giant airport Badcury’s bar we got when we had a layover there once? I’ve been dreaming about that.”

                Basden shakes his head. “That's, uh, that's a lot of chocolate, Marla.”

                “Aww, c’mon, just once in a while don’t hurt! Or at least a small bar. I’ll brave the stomach issues - it'll be so worth it!”

                He opens his mouth, but Janet cuts him off with a long-suffering sigh. “Stars, she’s going to be like this all week, isn’t she?”

                He opens his mouth again, but Marla rounds on her faster than he can speak. “Excuse me? I’m going to be like what all week?”

                Janet glares down at her. “Be quiet.”

                “I was just telling him what I wanted! Why’ve _you_ gotta be like this, J?”

                “You will stop this right now, young-”

                “Oooh, we’re bringing out the ‘young lady’s now! That’s early!”

                “That’s enough!” Janet shoots Basden a furious look. “Your daughter’s out of control. Make her stop.”

                Basden shuffles away from his wife, and clears his throat. Marla glances over at him, her arms crossed, her gaze defiant. Behind them, Pauline is watching the whole thing with wide eyes - she turns those on him, and suddenly everyone is staring at him.

                “Uh-m.” He gulps, and takes a breath. Marla, focus on Marla. Right. “Marla?”

                “Yeah, Dad?”

                “You’re going to be good for Janet while, uh, while I’m gone, right?”

                “Oh, yeah, sure.” Marla flashes him a dangerous smile. “As long as she’s good for me.”

                “ _Young lady_ -!” Janet grabs Basden's arm. “She needs to promise she’ll be good. And she needs to apologise for talking over Pauline.”

                Her smile vanishes. “Apologise? Oh-ho, why don't you make me?”

                Behind them, Pauline’s shaking her head. “No, um, she doesn’t need to-”

                “Yes, she does.” Janet tugs on his suit. “This week is not starting off with her interrupting everyone and mouthing off at me. I won’t allow it.”

                “Oh, you think that was mouthing off? I can show you mouthing off, just...”

                Basden clears his throat, and Marla turns to him. Her cheeks are flushed, her fists are clenched; he cringes when her mouth opens and shows sharpened teeth.

                “I didn't do _anything_ , Dad! Why do _I_ have to apologise just because  _she_ -”

                “Marlie, please, take a deep breath.” He reaches out and touches her shoulder. Feels the heat coming off of her. “You’re, uh, starting to reach your limit.”

                Marla’s scowl deepens, but she does pause at that. She breathes in, and her lips move as she counts one, two, three, then lets it out. She breathes in again... and Janet makes a scoffing sound.

                “What about my apology, Basden? You didn’t mention-”

                A deep, rumbling growl cuts her off. Basden feels it in his bones, and with a flutter of fear he sees Marla double over over like she’s been punched in the gut. Pauline lets out a yelp - she backs away, and Basden ignores the urge to do the same. He steps forward.

                “Marlie? Are you gonna be okay?” He glances over at the basement - reinforced door, just a couple steps away. “Do we need to leave?”

                He waits for an answer, and slowly, laboriously, Marla heaves herself upright again, eyes squeezed shut, fists balled against her chest, every muscle in her body knotted tight and bulging where bare skin shows. She unclenches her fists, and he sucks in a breath at the sight of black claws, sharp as broken glass and lengthening before his eyes.

                With those claws, she fingers the sleeve of her hoodie.

                “I’m…” Marla manages through heavy breaths. “Going to pretend… I didn’t hear that.”

                Her nails start to shrink, start to pinken; soon, they've returned to their human appearance. She wiggles them at Basden, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

                “Hey, look at that!” Marla gives him a tired smile. “Record time.”

                Basden grins back, but then he sees Janet turn and point at the stairs.

                “Room.”

                Marla frowns at her. “Aww, c’mon, I caught it! I’m fine now!”

                “Don’t argue with me, not about your little 'condition'. Room, _now._ ”

                She casts a look at Basden, but he shakes his head. “You should do what she says, Marlie. Please, _please_ , be good for her while I’m gone?”

                Janet rolls her eyes. “She can’t even be good while you’re here. I don’t think she has it in her.”

                “What?” Basden turns around and stares at her. “Jannie, that’s a terrible thing to say.”

                “Oh my stars, Bas, I was just joking.” She meets his gaze. “Of course I didn’t mean it literally. What kind of awful person do you take me for?”

                He cringes. “Oh, um-”

                “Now Marla, I see that you’re still not in your room.” Janet leans forward. “What did your father just say to you?”

                Marla says… nothing. For a moment, she looks between the two of them with an unreadable expression. Then her eye settles on Basden. It feels like she’s waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t know what that something is; an awkward silence stretches between them....

                Then it ends. Marla turns and heads for the stairs, and Janet nods approvingly.

                “There we are. _Finally_.”

                Basden blinks. “Marlie, wait, don’t you want to say goodbye first? You want your big goodbye hug? Marlie?”

                Marla disappears from sight.

                “Oh, um, okay.... See you in a week, Marlie! I love you!”

                An arm snakes around Basden’s shoulders. Janet pulls him in close.

                “Have fun, dear. I hope it all goes well.” She kisses his cheek. “Miss me, won’t you?”

                “I, um…” He shrugs her off, but she puts her arm right back where it was. “Please, um, please be nice to Marla while I’m gone?”

                Janet just smiles. “Oh, don’t you worry about me and Marla. I can handle her.”

                “But-”

                “Don’t worry, it’s all going to be fine over here. Of course I’ll be nice to Marla. Just focus on your trip - you’ve got plenty of stuff to worry about over there.”

                He chuckles nervously. “I guess you’re-”

                “And oh my stars, look at the time! I told you you were going to be late!” She pushes him towards Pauline. “Go on, say goodbye - quickly, you don’t want to miss your flight!”

                Basden stumbles over his feet. “Whoa, I’m not gonna miss my flight! I still have-”

                “Go! Quickly!”

                Pauline stares up at him. “Uh, quick goodbye, I guess?”

                “I guess. So byeIloveyouseeyouinaweek!”

                “What?”

                “ByeIloveyouseeyouinaweek!”

                At that, she giggles. “LoveyoulotsIhopeyouhaveafuntrip!”

                “IwilltrythankyouandI’llsendyouapostcard!”

                She flings her arms around him in a hug and then jumps back as quick as she can. Basden flaps his hand over her hair in a speedy imitation of patting her head. They both crack up.

                “Alright, kid, I love you.” He opens the door, and turns to wave at them again. “See you guys soon!”

                Janet tugs Pauline’s crossed arms apart and waves back. “Have a lovely trip!”

                “Bye, Dad! Um, have a nice time!”

                Up on the balcony, Basden notices another figure waving.  Marla’s leaning against the railing, and without making a sound she cups her two hands together and makes the shape of a heart at him.

                He smiles, and keeps his eyes down so he doesn't give her away. “Love you,” he says, and starts to close the door. “I love all you guys. I’ll see you in a week.”

                And _shut_.

* * *

 

                “I don’t think these damn buttons work!”

                It’s one hour into a nine hour flight, and Basden is already sick of it. Cramped in the middle aisle seat, gangly legs pushing up on his tray, fiddling with his empty cup of tomato juice because there’s no good movies on this flight, _why are there never any good movies on flights_ , he hardly even turns to look at the voice loudly complaining beside him.

                “I pressed the call button ages ago,” Gaston is saying. “But do you see any flight attendants? I don’t! Where do you think they are, boys? Lazing in the break room?”

                There isn’t a ‘break room’ on a plane - there’s just the kitchen. Basden knows this, and he also knows that no, Gaston did not press the button ‘ages’ ago, he pressed it - at most - two minutes ago because that’s when he finished his drink and started whinging about how it didn’t taste the same in a plastic cup. What he really should have

                Of all the things Basden knew, though, he said none of them. He pinched the top of his cup until the plastic snapped, doing it again and again, slowly and methodically turning the thing into a sort of flower.

                He lets someone else handle the conversations.

                “Haha, I bet you’re right, Gaston!” LeFuté reaches right across Basden to clap him on the shoulder. “I bet if you press it again, they’ll come for sure!”

                Gaston jabs the button, and his elbow nudges against Basden. He hunches up even tighter, and watches a flight attendant come hurrying down the aisles.

                “Hello, sir! You pressed the call button, is everything okay?”

                “Oh, you’re here. Finally.” He shakes his empty can at her. “I want another one of these.”

                “...You want a refill.” She says, and Basden cringes at everything beneath that chipper customer service tone. “I’ll get right on that, sir. The cart does come regularly, so if you want any other refreshments, you can always wait for that.”

                She walks off, and Gaston makes a ‘hmph’ sound and crosses his arms. Clearly something’s on his mind, and since nothing stays long in his mind before spilling out of his mouth, Basden’s not particularly surprised when he turns around and says,

                “I think that girl was hitting on me.”

                He can’t help but let out a startled snort. He was expecting the delivery, but he was certainly not expecting the contents.

                “It’s true! She ran up to me with a, ‘Hello, sir! Are you okay?’”

                “That’s… that’s what they do when you press the call button?”

                “Yes, but it was different.” He sits back in his seat, clasping his hands behind his head and poking Basden with his elbow. “You don’t understand, Bas. This happens to me a lot - I can tell.

                “Right.”

                “And you see, it’s not surprising so many people want me - too bad I’m already taken!”

                “Yeah, haha!” LeFuté reaches over to punch him in the arm. “And those people are out of luck, because there’s only one Gaston!”

                “That’s right.”

                Basden rolls his eyes, and leaves it at that. The flight attendent comes back with another can of beer.

                “Here you go, sir.” She spots Basden’s empty can. “Oh, excuse me! Before I go, do you want another-”

                Her eye trails to the plastic flower he’s made out of his cup, and there’s just the slightest hesitation before:

                “-tomato juice?”

                Basden hides the ex-cup in his lap. “Um, n-no, no thank you!”

                “Are you sure? I can get you another cup-”

                “No, no, it’s fine, really! Thank you. Thank you.”

                Gaston breaks into a full throated laugh as the attendant leaves. He jostles Basden with his arm. “What was that, huh? What have you done with your cup, you weird little man?”

                “I-”

                LeFuté plucks it out of his lap. “Can’t take him anywhere, can we?”

                “I was just bored,” he mutters. “You know, usually I sit by the window on flights.”

                “What, and you look out at clouds for nine hours?” Gaston shakes his head. “You are… something else.”

                “Something else, that’s right.” A hand claps around Basden’s shoulder, and squeezes. LeFuté grins at him. “Something special, am I right?”

                He raises an eyebrow.

                “Aww, c’mon, lighten up! You’re gonna make us all rich! Come on, Gaston, let’s give three cheers to the little inventor!”

                Basden shakes his head. “No, no-”

                “Hip-hip!”

                “Hooray!”

                “Hip-hip!”

                “Hooray!”

                “Hip-hip-”

                “Sir! Sir! Please keep your noise down. People are trying to sleep on the plane.”

                Basden puts his head in his hands. He’s surprised by the feeling of something being dropped on his head; he reaches up and pulls the plastic flower out of his hair.

                That makes him grimace. There’s still tomato juice on it.

* * *

 

                Hours later, they’re still on the plane. It’s dark, and Basden is highly aware of the sleeping form of Gaston that somehow migrated off the seat and was now slumped against his arm and shoulders. He’swarm - uncomfortably warm - and he snores.

                Basden makes a face. “I’m not sure about this, LeFuté.”

                “Not sure? Not sure of what?”

                “Of… this.” With his one free hand, he motions at the plane. LeFuté frowns.

                “Of the trip? Aww, c’mon, buddy, I know these guys in England. They’re gonna go nuts for your enchantment.” He pats Basden’s arm. “You know how many werewolves they got in England? Lots - where’d you think all the pre-Transcendence stories came from? And I bet you every last one of ‘em’d give a million bucks to stay in their houses during the full moon!”

                “Pounds, you mean.”

                “A million pounds! Either way we’re millionaires!”

                “Shhh, people are…” He clears his throat. “Um, that wasn’t what… that wasn’t what I was unsure about, though.”

                “Oh, yeah?”

                “Just… I don’t know if…” Basden cringes. “You guys… are…”

                Something in LeFuté’s smile changes. The way his eyes glint in the dim light… it makes him trail off.

                “You’re not sold on us, Basden?”

                “That’s not-”

                LeFuté cuts him off with a loud laugh. “No, no, no, Bas, say it! You know, we’re the sales guys - if we can’t sell ourselves to you, then what are we doing, going around, selling your amazing invention?”

                Basden cringes. “Thank you. I-I’m sorry, I just… Gaston’s a great guy, but-”

                “Gaston?” He does that laugh again. “Oh, yeah, that whole bit with the flight girl - not a confidence booster, I get it! But you haven’t seen him sell you something. Give him two minutes with a client, he’ll sell’em the shirt off their back. Natural charmer.”

                Basden spares a glance at the man. Gaston, natural charmer, is currently drooling on his shoulder.

                “You’ll see, Bas. First thing this morning, you’ll see.” LeFuté pats his arm again. “And you’re already seeing me in action! You’ve been letting your genius idea gather cobwebs in a corner for years, man, but you meet me and _bam_ ! It sells! Now _bam_ ! On a flight to England to meet _my_ contacts, all set up nice and easy for _you_!”

                Basden nods a little. “Yeah, that is-”

                “That is generosity, that’s what that is! All for my brother-in-law. Almost criminal. You’re almost stealing from me, and now you ‘don’t know’ whether you’re sold on us? Almost criminal.”

                “I-I know, I just-”

                “Basden. Brother.”

                Basden looks at LeFuté. He’s smiling so wide his cheeks almost touch his ears; it’s uncomfortable to look at and then-

                It’s gone.

                Just like that.

                A very, very serious expression is in its place.

                LeFuté leans forward, and Basden resists the urge to shrink back.

                “And I say brother, because, well, I’m gonna be very honest with you for a second. You need us.”

                Basden blinks. “What?”

                “You’re a weird old man who can’t get through a sentence without stu-stu-stuttering or doing… really long… pauses. You fiddle around with enchantments all day and sure,” he shrugs. “You can make some neat stuff. Sometimes you can even make stuff that sells. But can you sell it? Can you stand up for your idea and _make_ someone need it so much they’ll buy it? Can you do that?”

                Basden opens his mouth-

                “No, you can’t.” The grin starts to stretch across his face again. “You’re a weird old man who couldn’t sell rain to a desert. And you know how I said you were special earlier? Well, I was lying, ‘cause you’re not. There’s a million weirdos like you out there who’ll make a million genius inventions - but which one of them’s gonna be a millionaire, huh? The guy who pitched me a brilliant enchantment by rambling on about his first wife for half an hour - rest in peace, but I’m just saying - or the guy who’s got two guys who’ve got connections, who know how to pitch, how to sell, how to do all the stuff you can’t do to make your invention something that’s actually gonna see the light of day. That's actually gonna help people - 'cause that's what you wanted to do with it, right?”

                After all that, he sits back. Basden just stares at him.

                “Right? Unless you just want to keep stumbling around in your basement, making no money, helping no one, doing nothing useful till the day you drop dead.” He gives a shrug. “I know I'm being harsh, but I’m just being honest here. What do you think, Bas?”

                “What do…” Basden struggles for words. “What do I think?”

                “Yeah. Isn’t thinking your whole deal?”

                “Well, I, um… I don’t know what to think. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” He looks down. “I’m sorry, though. For doubting you. I suppose I really am… not good at people.”

                “Your words, not mine - hah! So we’re still solid on the business side of things?”

                “Yes. O-of course.”

                Something scratches against Basden’s arm; LeFuté has the cup flower in his hand, and is dragging one of the plastic petals up and down his skin. Basden cringes, but sits there and lets him.

                Sits there and lets Gaston drool on his shoulder, snore in his ear.

                Sits there and hears LeFuté laugh again, that loud laugh with a bit of an edge to it.

                “That’s all I needed to hear, brother.” LeFuté says, and that laugh dies down to a chuckle. “Brother, heh. This is why you’re never supposed to do business with family, right? I didn’t even mention how upset Jannie’d be if you went and fired her brother.”

                Basden shudders. “Yes, that would be… bad.”

                “And so unnecessary, too. Even just this conversation… yeesh. She'd blow her top.” LeFuté grins at him with all his teeth, and despite having lived with werewolves all his life, Basden has never encountered a more predatory expression.

                “So why don’t we both forget this ever happened, huh? Let's not bring it up again. You get some sleep, rest your little genius head, 'cause we’ve got a lot of money to make tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

                That is… a truly impressive amount of sugar. Basden is holding in his hands an A-4 sheet of pure milk chocolate covered in sparkling purple wrapping, and all he can think is _this might actually kill Marla_.

                Okay, it wouldn’t literally kill her, but werewolves and chocolate do _not_ mix (he’s reminded of this fact every Halloween - thank you very much Marla) and bringing this much back home feels like it’s just asking for trouble.

                No, no, he shouldn’t...

                ...but the next largest bars are just regular sized, and Marla specifically asked for the big one...

                ...

                ...ugh. Basden steps away from the display, one giant chocolate bar in hand. Well, Marla wasn’t the only person in the house. Pauline could help her with it… though maybe she’d like her own?

                A smile flits across his face. He really is a bit of a softie, isn’t he.

 _A pushover_.

 _A weird old man_.

                Just a flit, then it’s gone. Basden stands rigidly in line, gripping the chocolate to his chest- then he jumps at a noise.

                That’s- oh, that’s his phone ringing.

                His phone ringing.

                His phone.

                His stomach drops, and when he pulls it out and sees it’s Janet, he audibly groans. Oh, no.

                Basden puts it to his ear, and braces himself.

                “H-hello-”

                “So you _have_ gotten off the plane already. Why didn’t you call me?”

                “I’m so sorry, I, um, it slipped my-”

                “You forgot? Oh, that’s just great, isn’t it? I can see you’re having _so_ much fun already - who cares about your wife, staying up till three in the morning waiting to hear if you’re okay!”

                The clerk glances up at Basden - clearly, she can hear Janet’s rising voice. He blushes a beet red and steps out of line, puts the chocolate aside. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

                “Didn’t mean to this, didn’t mean to that - it’s funny how nothing’s ever your fault, Basden!”

                “I didn’t- I’m sorry, Jannie.” He hurries out of the store. “I really am, I-”

                “Oh, shut up.” She hisses. “I can’t stand your voice right now, I really can’t. You know, I stay home, I look after your _nightmare_ of a daughter for a week-”

                “Marl-”

                “-while you get to prance around another country, I ask you to do one _tiny_ little thing, just one _eetsy beetsy_ little thing and let me know when you land, and what do you do? You blow me off! You don’t care!”

                Basden walks and listens. Walks and cringes. Walks and walks until the crowd thins, and he can get a word in edgewise without an audience.

                “Jannie?”

                “ _What_!”

                “Can, I, um, can I say something?”

                “Ooh, ‘Can I say something? Pwetty pwease?’ Aren’t you _polite_.”

                “Jannie, I’m sorry.” He huddles in a corner. “I do care, I... do you want me to come back?”

                He can hear her heave a sigh. “ _No_. Stars, of course you’d say something stupid like that. I really can’t deal with you right now, Basden. Why don’t you call me back when it’s not three in the morning over here?”

                “I’ll do that. I promise.”

                “Hmph. We’ll see. Have a _wonderful_ day in England.”

                “You have a good day, um, too. I-I love you, I-”

 _Click_. She’s hung up.

                Basden blinks, once. Then he exhales, and slumps against the wall he’s found himself leaning on. Oh, stars, that was bad. He really screwed that up, didn’t he.

                “Rough time with the missus, huh pal?”

                A voice. Basden looks over at a security guard walking over to him with a baton in hand. He’s flanked by two other guards, and with a start Basden realises they’re the only other people in this hallway.

                “Oh!” He jumps up. “I’m so sorry! Am I not supposed to be here?”

                “Nope!” Says the guard in a strangely chipper voice. “Can I see some identification?”

                “Oh, uh, of course! I’m so sorry, again…”

                Basden rifles in his wheelie bag, and out of the corner of his eye he sees one of the guards come up behind him. He tries to ignore the unsettling feeling in his stomach as he hands over his passport.

                “Here you are, um, sir.”

                The guard stares at the blue of the cover… and laughs. “Ah, American! That's good - so you’re not from here?”

                The third guard walks over and takes Basden’s luggage. He looks for a nametag on their uniform… their plain, light blue button up shirt, and similarly nondescript black pants.

                “Um…”

                How long you here for? You travelling with anybody? Do they know where you are?”

                He stares at the man’s too-wide smile. Stares at the passport in his hands. “Um… are you, uh, do you work for the airport-”

 _Bang_. A baton to the back of the head is the last thing Basden remembers.


	2. Chapter 2

                Basden wakes up in darkness. In pain. He opens his eyes, and it’s hard to see anything though the stars throbbing in his vision.

                “Argh…” Sitting up, he cradles the back of his head. “Oh, wow, that… ow…”

                What happened? It’s coming back to him, bit by bit - the phone call, the security guards, but… but they weren’t guards and then- _bang._ He remembers that, and a rush of fear surges down him like a bucket of ice water. That’s the last thing he remembers, getting knocked out. Where is he now?

                He opens his eyes again, and sees he’s in some sort of cell. Concrete on all three sides, but instead of bars there’s just a rope tied over the entrance. Basden could slip right under it, but against the opposite wall he sees a half-dozen other cells just like his, a half-dozen huddling, trembling figures inside them staying firmly put behind the rope.

                That gives Basden pause, and a second later, he watches a figure in red robes patrol past the cells, sweeping a flashlight from side to side. The beam flashes into his eyes, and he draws back, squinting.

                Where is this place? What on earth has he gotten himself into? He checks his pockets for his phone, or his wallet, or _anything_ , but no.

                It’s all gone, and he’s on his own.

                The flashlight sweeps across the hall again, and Basden closes his eyes.

                Please let this be a dream. Please, _please_ let this be a dream...

* * *

 

                Basden has a vivid imagination. He can sit and imagine things for hours; back in school, that got him in his fair share of trouble, but it’s served him well over the years. Being able to get lost in his ideas, chasing trains of thought down deep rabbitholes, considering every possible facet of a problem facing him... Usually, it's a good thing, but right now?

                His imagination is being very unhelpful right now.

                Once it sunk in that no, this wasn’t a dream, and yes, he was in some very deep trouble, he tried thinking of ways out of this. Make a run for it, he’d think. Wait until the red-robed guard was at one end of the hall, then duck under the ropes and go the other way.

                But where would he go? He doesn’t know where an exit is - he imagines coming to a dead end, getting pounced on by guards.

                Maybe they’d be angry, maybe they’d beat him up. Basden’s never been beaten up before; he can’t help but imagine what that would feel like. Imagine all the pain, imagine curling up into a ball on the floor, unable to do anything...

                Maybe they’d kill him. He shudders. He imagines dying here, so far away from home… his family, would they even know he died, or just that he disappeared, walked out the door and dropped off the face of the earth? What would they do? Janet, Pauline, Marla… oh, _Marla_. She’s already lost her mother, Basden can only imagine what she’d feel like if she lost him, too.

                He can only imagine. There’s nothing else to do.

                He can only sit here, and imagine all the awful things, all the worst case scenarios that are about to come upon him. It paralyses him; how can he think of escape when there’s so much that could go wrong?

                “You.”

                Basden jerks up at a voice. Two red-robed figures are standing by a cell across from him; they undo the rope and point their flashlights at a woman inside.

                “Come with us,” they say. The woman backs up; they grab her by the shoulders and wrench her forwards. Basden can hear her yelp, see the terrified shine in her eyes as they lead her down the hall, out of sight, away to who knows where.

                Basden sees that, and all he can think is _thank the stars that’s not me_.

* * *

 

                Time passes. How much time - Hours? Days? Weeks? Who knows?

                All Basden knows is that he’s been staring at the back of his cell for a little while now, and he's noticed something gross. Though it’s dark, he can make out a couple broken pipes sticking out of the floor. They give off this musty, heavy odor - subtle, but now that he’s noticed the smell he can’t ignore it. That, combined with a rusted toilet roll dispenser he first took for an odd little handle mounted to the wall, gives him a new dimension to the unpleasantness of the situation.

                This is a toilet stall. Or it was, anyway. He's trapped in a old, smelly toilet stall.

                He’s going to die in an  _abandoned bathroom_.

                That’s just… That’s just par for the course at this point, isn’t it.

                Basden sags in place - he’d lean on the wall if it wasn’t so gross and damp - and sighs, because that’s just his life, isn’t it. You know, he never wanted anything special. He just wanted his family, and the workstation in his basement where he could fiddle with enchantments, and… that was it, that was all he wanted. That was all he ever wanted with his life. He really didn’t think he was asking for that much, but here he is.

                In a toilet stall.

                With neither.

 _Fantastic_.

                Basden scuffs his shoes on the concrete, but at that moment a noise brings him out of his thoughts. It’s low, deep, faint at first… but building. It gets louder, it echoes down the hall, and it almost sounds like voices. Chanting voices.

                A scream. It startles him, then-

 _Then it’s cold_.

                Basden doesn’t know how, but the temperature seems to drop ten degrees; it leaves him shivering, it leaves him shaking, it leaves him _scared_. Icy, primal fear trickles down his spine, wraps claws around his chest and squeezes hard on his heart. He’s breathing fast all of a sudden; he doesn’t know what changed, he doesn’t know what’s made him so scared, but something has, something’s _wrong_ , and he needs to get away _right now_.

 _Right now_.

_Right now!_

                He stays there, frozen in place.

                He can’t move, he can only listen to a growing chorus of moans from the people in the other cells. They can feel it too; some of them are pressing right up against the rope barrier, eyes wide and fearful, mouths gaping open. The guard snaps at them.

                “Hey! Be quiet, all of you!”

                He shines his flashlight in people’s faces until they back away. There’s still that fear, though, that awful fear that makes Basden feel like a hunted animal, like there’s something lurking in the shadows, sizing him up, _going in for the kill-_

                More screams. Many screams. This time, the cultist guard whirls around at the sound of them; He shines the flashlight in their direction, and as the screams die off, Basden notices how he’s gone very, very rigid.

                Something’s gone wrong.

                “Guys?” The cultist calls out. “What’s going on down there? Guys?”

                “What did you do?” Somebody moans from the cells. “What did you summon?”

                “Hey, you! Shut up!”

                “We’re all gonna die… I can feel it, we’re all gonna-”

                “ _Shut up_!”

                The cultist hits him with the flashlight, and suddenly the temperature plummets again. Basden can see his own breath, can see the goosebumps on his arms, can see the colour getting sucked out of the room. The darkness gets darker, the yellow light starkens to blinding white, the red robes go dull and grey, and the cultist wearing them takes a step back.

                “ _Ohhh what the fuck_ … guys? Guys!”

                A growl reverberates through the hall. It’s the loudest thing Basden’s ever heard; he claps his hands over his ears but the vibrations judder in his teeth. The cultist drops the flashlight and the bulb shatters, plunging them into total, absolute darkness.

                Darkness, and silence.

                Darkness, and _two glowing eyes_. Basden starts back, heart catching in his throat at the actual demon in the room.

                Its slitted eyes are gold like the sun, and they burn into the cultist’s face. They’re bright enough to illuminate the horror in his face, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he tries to speak.

                “M-m-my lord…” He manages. “You’re… y-you’re here.”

                The demon shifts, and Basden can make out the twinkling of teeth. Two huge fangs jutt up out of its jaw, coming to glistening points at its cheekline.

                A cheekline that is being patterned over with glowing golden brickwork. The lines extend down its face, which is…

                Far too long to be human.

                Far too toothy, far too furry, far too horned and tusked. The cultist takes a step back and the demon advances with him, its growl clouding in the icy air.

                “My lord, you look… different… than I-I expected.”

                The brickwork goes down to two frighteningly large paws, and up, up, up, to a pair of wings that seem to wrap around the whole room. They twitch, and Basden stumbles as reality itself is thrown off kilter. The cultist yelps and falls to the ground.

                “Wait! Have mercy, my lord, we did not mean to offend you!” He scrambles back, only to have a paw come down heavy on his chest, razor-sharp claws poised at his neckline. “What about the deal? We said you could have all these sacrifices, how could you refuse? Do you want more? We can get more, we swear, I-I swear, please don’t-”

                It presses down harder, and the cultist’s eyes bulge. Basden cringes as the demon leans in close - he doesn’t want to watch. He doesn’t want to see this _at all_ , but he can’t look away.

                The demon presses its wet nose to his face. There’s a snuffling sound as the demon sniffs him. It growls a little, shows its teeth, then raises its head, sniffs the air.

                It looks this way and that - searching for something, almost. That’s what it looks like to Basden, but before he can think on that the demon turns around and looks in this direction.

                Those golden, slitted, inhuman eyes fix on him, and Basden thinks he might faint. Or throw up. Maybe both. The demon keeps staring at him, and all he can do is stand there, wanting to tremble but not daring to move.

                The demon doesn’t move either. Not at all; the absolute stillness is horribly uncanny. Just when he thinks it might have frozen in place, though, it opens its mouth.

                Triple rows of teeth and loops of dripping saliva glisten in its maw, and then:

                “ _M̱̻̦̱̙̥̪i͏̩z̠͉̹̬̜a̸̬̖͓̜͚̦r̺̞͜_ …”

 

                It hardly sounds like a word. Basden doesn’t even know what it said, but the cultist jerks up.

                “Mizar? What-”

                It’s quick and violent - the demon rips its claws down and makes bloody ribbons of the cultist. There’s a scream Basden will hear in his nightmares, then it’s cut short as blue fire surges from the openings in his flesh and devours the man from inside out. One second he was there, whole, and now all that’s left of him is a crumpled robe in greyscale. Basden can’t even process what he’s seen before the demon is there, right in his face-

                Staring him down in a terrifyingly similar manner.

                “ _M̨͓̫̫̞̞̭͠I҉͖̺̝͓̞̟̱̬͖Z̫̤̭̥ͅA̷̷̙̪̜̻̘̤͉̦R͙͉͢!”_ It roars, and his ears ring. He jumps back, but his back hit the cell wall - nowhere to run.

 

                He tries to work his mouth - no words come.The demon thrusts out a paw and slams his shoulder into the concrete.

                “I̛̗͚̰̪̯͟ ̙̕W̴͙̫A̶̡̰̻̘̫Ņ̺͟͠T̤̩͈̹̹͔͘͘ ̦M̢̻͚̮̣̩̲̕ͅI̺͍͝Z̙̲͔A҉̸̗̣̭̹̺̘R̶̡̺̻͍̪͔͟!͇̯͓͓̗̼̳͢͜” Its slimy spittle splatters on his face. Its claws stain his shirt with warm blood, and its voice lowers to a distorted hiss. “G̮i͏̘̦̳̯v̛̜e̦͍ ͖̜̩͔͙̬̥͡h̙̲̯e͍̣̥̙̫̖̭r͚̲̯̯͇̣̙͝ ̻ṱ͚̩o̷̮̪͓ ̧͎̤͍̜̣̣̦m̘͍͎̗̫e͈͕̟̗̼͍̖.͖̯͚͓̕ͅ”

 

                “Guh-give?” Basden blinks hard. “I-I d-d-don’t know what Miz-Mizar… I d-don’t know what you’re-”

                “ **G̵̘̱̗̞̜̦͙͇͔̥̹͞I̛̺̥͖͎̥̰̮͇̤̦͈̻̳͜͞V҉̶̨̛̤̟̭̙̘̱̣̖̘͠E̵͖̭̫̞̣̪̱̫̠̘̟̺͢͟͢ ̸̸̶̺̻̖͈̲͓̬̻̦̳H̡̻͓̤̦͉̟̖͔̲̰̥̺͈͎͖̯̙̭͠E͍͔̤R̴̸̫͙̻̼̖̫͉̭̗͙͍̹̱̭͇̪͠ ̛̮̜͎̗̗̩͕̤͞͠T̡̖͕̜̥͎̦̦͎͎̥̺̰̰̼̥̩̻͞O̸͏̳̤̩̘̟̮͎͢ͅ ̢͖͎̯̠̩͍̗̭͕̦̱͔͚͇̤̩̘̥͘͡͠ͅM̸̶͈̪̺̭̭͖͖̳̜͙̝͖͞E̵͏̸̴̱̙͎͔̗̥̦͝**!̞̗̲͇͟͞”

 

                “Okay!” He squeaks. “Okay, whatever that is I’ll give it! I-I’ll give it, just don’t hurt me! Please, god, don’t hurt me!”

                The demon presses harder, and blue fire flares up from its paw. Basden squeezes his eyes shut, cold air flooding in and out and in and out of his chest as he hyperventilates, certain this is the end, certain he’s about to die, certain _he’s about to die right now please don’t let it hurt too much_ -

* * *

 

                He’s there, and then he’s… not. There’s a sort of _twisting_ sensation, and suddenly Basden is stumbling backwards as the wall falls away from his body. He trips over something and the back of his head smacks against the side of a chair.

                “Agh!” That’s right where he got hit with the baton - stars dance across his vision as he looks around. “What… where am I now?”

                It’s better than the toilet cell, he can see that immediately. Some sort of bedroom? Hotel suite? There’s bags on the nearest bed - his bags, actually. His passport and phone, sitting atop his suitcase. Basden stumbles to his feet and snatches them up.

                He checks his phone, first. What time is it? It’s- wow. It’s only been four hours since he landed? It felt so much longer.

                One text from LeFuté: _hey we’re headed to the hotel now_. Basden reads that...

                And grimaces. Ohhh, he doesn’t feel very good all of a sudden. That _twist_ , whatever that was that got him here, it really turned his stomach. Another blow to the head probably didn’t help either… he’s going to be sick.

                Basden can see a bathroom through a half-opened door. He turns off his phone and hurries over there.

                While he’s throwing up, he hears the front door beep and swing open. Gaston’s voice quickly fills the suite.

                “So the Queen doesn’t actually make the laws around here?”

                “Haha, you’re so funny, Gaston. Parliament does that.”

                “Huh... Oh. Oh, yes, of course it does. I know that, I was joking. I’m- huh? Someone’s already here!”

                “It’s just me.” Basden croaks out. Then louder: “It’s just me!”

                “Bas? How’d you get in?” LeFuté pops his head in the bathroom. “We literally just checked in, how’d you- ooh, yeesh. You had a few too many drinks there, buddy?”

                “Wha… no. No! I-I got kidnapped!”

                He raises an eyebrow. “Kidnapped?”

                “Taken! These security guards…” He tries to stand up but only manages to spread himself across the floor. “Fakes, a-and I was in - toilet stall! - and there were cultists, demons…”

                “Whoa!” Gaston’s laugh echoes too loud in his ear. “I want whatever you’re on, Bas!”

                “No, no! I-It’s real! I saw a man, he-he got shredded then he got lit on fire-”

                “Bas, Bas, buddy!” LeFuté extends a hand, and helps him to his feet. “Why don’t you, uh, take it easy for a bit? We’ll handle tomorrow, alright?”

                “You’re not listening, it was real…” Basden lets himself be led over to the bed. “I-I want to go home.”

                “Home? But we just got here!”

                “I-I want to go home, I want to-”

                “Aww, c’mon-”

                “No, I need to go home.” He stares at them both. “Right now. _Please_ don’t make me stay here.”

                Gaston and LeFuté exchange glances for a long moment. Then LeFuté clears his throat.

                “Uh, alright, well… why don’t you talk to Janet first?”

* * *

 

_I want Mizar._

                The phone rings. It rings again, and Basden taps his fingers on the chair impatiently. Is she going to pick up?

                Is she okay?

 _Give her to me_.

                 _Her._

                He didn’t catch it at the time, but that demon… it was talking about someone.

                ...

                He doesn’t know a Mizar. Everything’s fine, he’s coming home, he can just forget about it and _why hasn’t she picked up yet_ -

                “Basden?”

                “Janet!” The flood of relief at her voice is almost overwhelming. “Oh my stars, I love you. I love you so much.”

                “I, uh… I love you too, dear?” She gives a confused laugh. “I’m glad you remembered to call this time. What-”

                “I’m coming home tonight.”

                “What?”

                “Gaston and LeFuté and I, we talked. They’re going to handle all the decision making, I’m getting on the first flight back-”

                “Why?” A note of concern slips into her voice. “You sound upset, Basden. What’s going on?”

                “Things, lots of... things. It's a long story, i-it took me ages to convince Gaston I wasn’t drunk-”

                “Heh, you sound drunk.”

                “Look, uh, something happened - but I’m fine! I think I’m fine - a-and I just…” He leans on the chair. “I really want to come home to you guys, okay? I’m sorry, I know you wanted me to be hands-on with the business thing-”

                “But you needed to come home to me? Aww.”

                He chuckles a little. “Y-yeah. Guess… guess the universe gave me a sign. That’s how I’m gonna take it.”

                “A sign, that's so romantic! Alright, dear. If you really need to, then come home to me." There's a rustle of cushions as she leans back on something. "What happened, anyway?”

                The smile disappears. “Um, I don’t want to- you’re going to laugh at me, I-I want to tell you in person.”

                “Nothing too serious?”

                “Um… k-kind of serious, but I’m fine! As long as you guys are fine, I’m fine.”

                “I’m fine, dear. I’m better than fine, knowing you’re coming back so soon. I-” She stops like she’s been cut off, and her voice moves away from the phone a little. “Yes, it’s your father! You’re supposed to be studying, go!”

                Basden blinks. “Is that Marla?”

                “Yes, that was Marla.” A chuckle. “Another reason I’m glad you’re coming back, she-”

                “A-and Pauline’s there, too?”

                “Pauline’s at school.”

                “She's at school? Are you sure?”

                Janet’s voice gets an edge to it. “I know where my daughter is, Basden. She’s a good child; she’d never skip school, if that’s what you’re implying.”

                “No, I wasn’t implying that, I-I just wanted to know she’s okay.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry, Jannie. Sorry.”

                “Hmph. Well, I’m glad you’re coming home.”

                “Me too... Me too.” Basden pauses, and then: “Can I speak? To Marla, I mean?”

                Janet lets out a sigh. “She’s studying, Bas. I thought you didn’t want me to talk to her anymore when she’s doing her classes.”

                “Oh… yeah.”

                “You’ll see her tomorrow. And Pauline.”

                “You’re right.” He nods. “Well... just tell her I love her, okay?”

                “You’ll see her tomorrow.”

                “I-I know, but just… please?”

                Her voice gets snippy. “Are you going to make me tell Pauline, too? Or just her?”

                “Yes! I mean, yes, tell them both! Tell them both I love them so much.”

                A long pause, punctuated by another heavy sigh. “Alright, _f_ _ine_ , I’ll be your messenger. The things I do for you, Basden.”

                He smiles. “Thank you, Jannie. I really appreciate it. Love you.”

                “Love you too... most of the time.”

                Basden tries to laugh at that. “Sorry, heh. I know I’m-”

 _Click_. She's hung up again. He takes the phone away from his ear, and stares down at the chair. That ending was a little... abrupt, but...

                Well, they’re okay. Everything’s okay. He’s coming home.

                That’s enough to keep him smiling.

* * *

 

                Driving. Waiting. Airport. Waiting. Going through security. So much waiting. Basder sits at his gate with a little shopping bag, waiting to board.

                He stares at the crowds of people walking past him, and waits.

                It’s an eleven hour flight back, but thankfully he can sleep most of the way this time. And when he can’t sleep, he can sit and stare out of the window at the clouds beneath him.

                It’s a calming sight, and he waits patiently.

                Through touchdown, through border security, through the drive back to his house, waiting, waiting for the moment he walks up the steps, unlocks the door, and throws it open.

                “I’m home!” He calls out, and grins. “I’m home.”

                Pauline sticks her head out of the living room. “Dad?”

                “Kid!”

                “Huh?” She looks a little nervous as he comes over to hug her. “What happened? Why are you back so soon?”

                “Oh, don’t worry about it, Pauline. Everything’s fine, and I am so happy to see you!” He squeezes her tight, and smiles when he feels her squeeze back. “I love you so much.”

                Pauline giggles. “Love you too. You’re a weirdo, Dad.”

                “Yeah, maybe I am. But- oh! Guess what?”

                “What?”

                He rifles in his bag. “Got you something… not much, but I was just at the airport and I thought you’d like this.”

                Basden draws out a postcard, a Big Ben keychain, and a huge sheet of English chocolate. Pauline’s eyes bulge as he hands them to her.

                “Sorry,” He says. “I know you wanted clothes, but-”

                “Wait, _this_ was what Marla was saying with the big chocolate bars?”

                “Hah, they make them pretty big at the airport-”

                “I. Love. It. And look at this!” She dangles the keychain and giggles. “I’m gonna put this on my backpack! Thanks, Dad!”

                Basden smiles. “I’m glad you like it, kiddo. Why don’t you read the postcard, too?”

                At that moment, there’s a voice from across the hall. “Is that Basden?”

                “Jannie?” He watches Pauline wave and slink away, then turns to the sound of her voice. “Yes, it’s me. I’m back!”

                She appears in the doorway, all smiles. “There’s my husband. Where’s my hug, dear?”

                “Right here.”

                They embrace, and Janet squeezes him as tight as a snake. She kisses him, then pulls back, suddenly serious.

                “My brother told me about how you were acting last night.”

                Basden cringes. “Yeah, I was, uh… a bit panicked.”

                “Rambling about cultists and demons and getting kidnapped… You need to tell me what's going on right now.” She crosses her arms. “Be honest.”

                “Well, uh, I know it sounds crazy but that’s kind of what happened.”

                Janet’s eyebrows droop. “You’re saying you got kidnapped.”

                “Yes. I-”

                “By cultists.”

                “Yes. It’s hard to-”

                “Then you saw a demon and mysteriously turned up _totally fine_ in the hotel room just a couple hours after you touched down.”

                Basden cringes at her expression. “...Yes. Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it’s true. After I got off the phone with you, there were these security guards-”

                “Wow, you actually think this happened, don’t you?” She lets out a harsh laugh. “Basden, are you sure you weren’t drunk? Because if you weren’t, we're going to need to get your head checked.”

                “I’m not crazy, it happened!” He sees her disbelieving expression, and sighs. “Can we... can we talk about this later, please? I don’t want to have an argument right now.”

                “I’m not arguing, you’re arguing.”

                “Okay. It’s really good to see you again.”

                She makes a noise, and he draws her closer.

                “I really missed all you guys. I don’t think I’m cut out for long business trips.”

                “Maybe you would be if you laid off the wine.”

                Basden makes a face at that, but then he looks around the house.

                “Oh, Jannie?”

                “What?”

                “Do you know where Marla is?”

                Janet groans at that. “Ugh. Don’t even ask.”

                “You guys got in a fight?”

                “Not a fight, a simple disagreement. And she started it.” Janet pushes off him, and waves a hand at the staircase. “She’s up in her room, but don’t get your hopes up. I don’t know if she’s coherent yet.”

                Basden grimaces at that. “I’ll go and see her.”

                She walks away, and he hurries up the steps, taking them two at a time. After taking a second to throw one of his bags in his bedroom, he starts down the hall. Marla’s door is at the very end, and it's different from all the others; it’s made of heavy steel, similar to the one down in the basement. Unlike that one, though, she’s decorated it, hung a sign that reads ‘ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE’, and the sight of it always makes him chuckle.

                (She used to have a different sign up that read ‘BEWARE OF DOG’, but Janet wasn’t having that so they worked out a compromise.)

                Basden approaches the door now, and he can hear a low growling from behind it. Something glass shatters, and he hesitates before giving the steel a little knock.

                “Marlie?” He asks, and the growling cuts off. “I don’t need to come in, but just wanted to let you know I’m back. I love you.”

                He turns and walks down the hall again, but after a moment there’s a rapping from the other side of the door. A smile tugging at his lips, he makes his way back over.

                “You want me to come in?”

                A few more raps, then a rougher, deeper voice answers him. “Yeah, uh… shoot, one second, Dad.”

                He waits patiently, listens to her bump into things and mutter stray curses here and there, until the door handle twists and opens in. Gently, Basden pushes it open and comes inside.

                Marla’s room is always a bit of a disaster, and that’s before counting the claw marks slowly closing up on the drywall. He steps over a stream of glass shards floating back up to a picture frame, and smiles as he spots Marla shoving the feathers back in her bedcovers.

                “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he says. “Let the enchantment handle it.”

                She shoots him a look. Her hair’s a little wild, and that hoodie’s clearly been put on in a hurry - it’s backwards. She doesn’t say anything, and seeing the blotchiness in her cheeks, the redness in her eyes, Basden thinks he knows why. He steps closer.

                “You okay?”

                Marla growls - wrong thing to say, apparently. The rip in the bedsheet’s stitching itself together, and she goes from shoving feathers in to poking individual ones through the holes that remain.

                After a little bit of that, she speaks.

                “You always ask that, and it’s always exactly the same thing. I don't know why you even bother asking anymore.”

                He grimaces. “Janet said you had a little disagreement with her.”

                “Oh, a little disagreement, oh-kay then. That’s a nice way to put it.”

                “I know you guys don’t get along, Marlie.” He puts a hand on her shoulder, but it gets shrugged off. “I’m sorry, I’m sure it was tough while I was gone. But, you know, she’s, she can be… you two are just very different personalities. She’s trying, Marlie. She really is.”

                Marla grips her bedsheets and says nothing. He clears his throat.

                “So what, uh, what happened between you two today?”

                “I don’t want to talk about it, Dad.”

                “Oh. Okay, that’s okay.”

                “I’m glad you’re back." She leans into him. "What happened with you? Janet said you got wasted and had to come home.”

                Basden blinks at that. “What?” He gives a surprised snort. “No, that’s, that’s not what happened at all.”

                “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

                He feels her lean in harder, and clears his throat. “Well, uh, what happened… don’t worry about it, Marlie. It’s not important, I’m fine.”

                “Did you really get kidnapped by cultists?”

                “Um, I don’t- I don’t know? It’s complicated... I-I don’t want to talk about it.”

                “Okay.”

                She says that, and then it’s quiet. He puts an arm around her, and she puts an arm around him, and they just hold onto each other for a while. The room’s fully healed; Basder smiles at the row of stuffed animals on her desk, and the extra special cat one tucked in by her pillow. She’s had it since she was a baby - Basden can remember the day they got it for her. He can remember his wife’s laugh as they placed it in the corner of her crib. “You think they’ll get along?” He can remember her saying. He remembers that, and sighs.

                Sometimes that memory makes him laugh, and sometimes it makes him sad. Right now, it’s doing the latter.

                He squeezes Marla’s shoulders… then clears his throat.

                “Uh,” he starts, and she looks up at him. “You know how you wanted those chocolate bars-”

                Almost instantly, Marla perks up. “You got them?”

                “Heh, I got three, actually. Just for you.”

                “Oh. My. Stars. That’s amazing! Thanks, Dad!”

                He chuckles. “No problem. Please don’t eat them too fast.”

                “I promise, I will try my best not to!” She looks around him. “Where are they right now? Where’s your suitcase?”

                “It’s in my room. Hang on, Marlie, I’ll get them for you.”

                He steps away with a smile, but just as he walks out the door, he hears a growling sound. It’s followed by a _shit, shut up_ , and he frowns. Sticks his head back in.

                “Marla?” Basden frowns at her. “Was that you?”

                She’s grinning suspiciously widely now. “Nope!” She says, and his frown deepens.

                “Then who was that?”

                “Who? Oh, that was… um... shoot, can I still say that was me?”

                Another growl rumbles out, and it’s clearly coming from under Marla’s bed. She tries to keep up the act.

                “Rrrrrr, just, uh, just doing that for no reason-”

                “What have you got under your bed, Marla?”

                “Dammit.” Marla makes a face as she leans down. “Um, I may have made a friend... promise you’ll be cool?”

                One eyebrow raised, Basden watches her lift up the bedskirt. “A friend? What on earth are you talking about? What is under… under your...”

 _It_ walks out, and he trails off midsentence because _that’s the demon from his nightmare_. It’s smaller now, yes, but it looks up at him with those same two eyes and he feels that same rush of terror as the blood drains from his face. Only faintly, he can hear Marla talking away - he can barely hear her over _oh my stars she’s so close to it OH MY STARS SHE’S PETTING IT WHAT IS SHE DOING_ …

                “-Just kind of popped up in my room last night. He’s a funny looking guy, isn’t he? Cute I know you said no pets, but I’ve named him Toother McFluffbutt and once you name something you can’t kick it out - that’s a real rule, Dad! Dad?”

                Basden just gapes at the literal demon, closing its eyes and _purring_ as Marla gives it a scratch behind the ears. He feels like he’s going to throw up again.


	3. Chapter 3

The demon gazes at him with those golden slitted eyes. Its head cocks to the side, regarding him with mild curiosity. It’s a steady, almost placid expression - a far cry from the menacing snarl it had on back in the abandoned bathroom - but Basden can still remember its claws on his shoulder, its voice bellowing in his eardrums…

Its words, dropping like stones in his gut.

_I want Mizar._

_GIVE HER TO ME!_

What is it doing here?! What is it doing with Marla?

“Dad?”

Marla! He shoots up at her voice; she’s looking at him, looking very worried all of a sudden, and _she’s still petting the demon_!

Basden lurches forward and pulls her hand away.

“Hey! Dad!”

“Get away from that thing!” He can hear it growling now; he tugs at her arm but she doesn’t budge. “Marlie, p-please come with me now.”

“Whoa, whoa, you’re scaring him, Dad!” Marla tries to shrug him off. “It’s okay! No need to freak out. I know he looks like a chomper, but I’ve been hanging around with him all day and the only thing he’s eaten is my pillow.”

 _All day_ … He shakes his head furiously. “No, no, you don’t understand-”

“Don’t understand what?”

“That thing, it’s not normal, it’s a-”

Basden suddenly stops dead. He puts a hand to his mouth, and Marla finally wiggles out of his grip.

“A what, Dad?”

“It’s a- uh… I saw it in the-” His eyes are getting steadily wider; the bile is rising in his throat. “I can’t say it’s a-”

He stops again, cut off midsentence by some mysterious force that clamps around his vocal chords. He can’t say it’s a demon. _He can’t say it’s a demon_ , and when he glances at the thing sitting on Marla’s bed, he sees it’s chewing something. Looking him right in the eye, and _eating his words_.

Basden staggers away, stabbing a shaking finger at it. “St-stop! Stop doing that!”

“Doing what? Dad?” Marla catches his shoulder. “Dad, are you okay? I don’t know what you’re seeing, but Toother’s not doing anything.”

“He’s eating- argh, dammit!”

“Eating what?” Looking over at the demon, Marla frowns as she notices it chewing. Then it coughs out a couple feathers... and she just _laughs_. “You dummy, Toother. Yeah, that’s what happens when you eat a pillow!”

The demon lets out a puff of air, looking miffed. She rolls her eyes.

“Well, I’m sorry you didn’t like my cereal, but that was the only thing I could sneak past Janet. I’ll get you some actual food after she goes to sleep, kay?”

Basden watches it belch out another feather and rest its head on the covers. He watches Marla turn to him with a grin, watches that grin quickly fade as she notices his expression.

“You look like you’re about to pass out, Dad. Do you need to sit down?”

“No, no, that _thing_ , that-”

“I promise you he’s fine, okay? You don’t need to be scared; he acts kinda like a cat... A really ugly looking cat, sure, but-”

“Marla, listen to me.” He grabs her wrists. “That thing, it’s dangerous! we need to-”

“No, you listen to me!” Marla wrenches herself out of his grip and stabs a finger at the demon. “This guy’s been palling around with me for a whole day before you showed up, so  think I know what I’m talking about when I say he’s not dangerous! You’re treating me like I’m some sort of idiot who thinks bears are cuddly - no, I’m telling you he’s totally fine!”

“Marla, you don’t-”

“And alright, if I’m not allowed to have a pet I’m not allowed to have a pet, okay? I get that, but then you went right out of the gates with the ‘Oh no that _thing_ , oh no it’s dangerous’ and-”

“Marla, you don’t understand-”

“ _What_! What’s this thing I don’t understand, Dad?!”

Basden grits his teeth. “You’re squeezing my shoulder, Marla. Deep breaths.”

“Wha- oh, shoot. Sorry.” Marla shrinks back into herself, still giving him the stink eye. “But what don’t I understand about this? It seems pretty clear to me you’re just scared of him.”

Though he’s dying to grab Marla and run for it, he can see that’s not going to work. Praying that demon stays put just a little longer, he takes a deep breath.

“Marlie, I’m not trying to upset you. I want to tell you why that thing scares me, but-” He’s cut off by the demon again. “Ugh. It’s, um, difficult.”

“Difficult? Really? Well, why don’t you try?”

With a cringe, he starts again. “Look, um… this thing, how did you… come across it?”

“Toother was sitting on my chest when I woke up.” Marla gives a little chuckle. “I had a pretty similar reaction to you, Dad - like ‘ _Whaaaat the hell_!’ But then he turned out to just want a bunch of cuddles. Sat in my lap the whole time I was doing my classes, that was cool.”

“You don’t think it’s strange that it just showed up in your room?”

She shrugged. “I mean, he’s obviously some sort of magical creature - just look at him. I’m sure he managed somehow.”

“Marla-”

“Look, he’s fine, okay? I still don’t see why we can’t keep him.”

Basden frowns. “No, we’re not keeping it.”

“But why not?”

“I- ugh, Marla, please just trust me, okay? We can’t-”

“ _But why not_!” She clenches her fists. “Why don’t I get to have just this one thing to myself for once? You were perfectly happy to bend the pet rule when Janet got Pauline those guinea pigs, but suddenly it’s the law of the law of the land with me, huh? Funny how that works!”

“It’s not about that, Marla, it’s-”

“It is about that, and it’s not fair! I’m old enough, I could take care of him! You don’t even have to see him if he’s so hideous to be around - if I can hide him from Janet I can hide him from you too. How’s that sound?”

“Marla, that’s not the problem-”

“Then tell me what the fucking problem is! That’s what I’ve been asking this whole time!”

“You don’t understa-”

Basden’s throat closes up - not from the demon this time.

From Marla; with a snarl her hand’s shot out and clamped around his throat. It cuts off his air, and he gags for breath as she drags him in close, nails digging into his skin. Her face is contorted with fury. Her fangs are bared on full display.

Her eyes... pupils blown wide, they look black and beady; cold, cruel, and utterly devoid of the daughter who loves him.

Basden feels a rush of fear, but the beast disappears in the same second it came over her. Marla blinks, and it is just Marla again; she looks him up and down, and confusion turns to horror as she realises she has him by the throat.

“Oh- oh shit! Dad!” Like lightning she lets him go and backs way off. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

Basden coughs. “I’m alright,” he croaks, and sees her she flinch at the hoarseness. “Don’t... don’t worry about me.”

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, I swear!”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! I could’ve really hurt you, I...” Marla stares at her lengthening claws and brings them up to her temples. “I _wanted_ to, for just a second I-I imagined… a-and I could see it, I could see… I could see me _hurting_ you...”

“They’re only thoughts, Marla.” He reaches out a hand, but she backs away shaking her head. “I know they’re scary, but they’re not you. Breathe. Let them pass.”

Marla curls up into a ball in the corner, shaking and sobbing and burying her head in her knees as she digs her claws into her hair. Basden watches from the other side of the room; he aches at how small, how scared, how lonely she looks right now. He aches to wrap her up in a hug and hold her close until she feels better, but that would only scare her more.

No, she wants him to keep his distance, and even though it _aches_ just to stand there, that’s the only thing he can do.

A flicker at the edge of his vision. Something moves and catches his eye, and when he looks his heart drops into his stomach.

It’s the demon. Amazingly, Basden had somehow completely forgotten it was in the room. It rises up from its perch on Marla’s bed, and with a flick of its tail it starts to walk towards her.

Basden takes a half-step forward to stop it, but he freezes at the hiccup of a particularly loud sob. While he’s caught in agonising indecision, the demon slinks off the bed and brushes right up against Marla.

“Wh-wha…?” She lifts her head to see it gently nudge her elbow. It looks up at her with those terrible, demonic, inhuman, glowing gold eyes...

And she wraps her arms around it and clutches it to her chest, burying her head into its fur. Basden’s heart stops, but the demon doesn’t tear her face off like he fears; instead, it starts to purr, and wraps a wing around her shoulder in such a gentle, comforting way - even Basden can’t help but think it looks a hug.

A hug.

His daughter is getting a hug from a demon.

Basden can still feel that same terror at the sight of its many teeth and claws, can still feel how his gut screams at him to _get Marla away from that thing_ , _rip it out of her hands and run_ … but he can hear how her sobs have died down, can see pink nails on the fingers she’s running through the demon’s fur.

She doesn’t look so alone anymore, and Basden… he can’t bring himself to force them apart.

Even if that’s a demon in her arms, and _oh, stars, is he really about to let her keep a literal demon in the house, he must be the biggest, dumbest pushover on Earth..._

“Th-thanks, Toother…” Marla murmurs to the demon. She looks up at Basden with just a hint of hope shining in her watery eyes, and he groans internally as he realises _yes, yes, he really is_.

“Just don’t let Janet see that thing,” he says, then, lamely: “Please.”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - Marla’s squeal of delight, or the tortured screaming of his common sense as he stares at the demon he’s just invited into his house.

It gazes back at him with those awful eyes, and he swears it looks smug.

* * *

 

Today… holy shit, today was a trainwreck, and Basden feels like he’s about to shatter into a million pieces. If he has to answer ‘So what were you _really_ doing in London?” even one more time, or if he lets himself think too hard about the demon that could well be in Marla’s room right now…

He’s going to snap. He’s literally going to snap, so he needs a break _right now_.

Basden fills up the dishwasher and runs it, then slips down the basement steps to his room. And it really is his room - his bedroom is nice, but nowhere in the world feels more like home to Basden than the cold, cramped, dim basement that houses his workstation.

Here, he sits on a squeaky swivel chair he’s had since college, takes out his fountain pen, and begins drawing enchantments.

There are so many ways for humans to harness magic, and enchantments are probably the most freeform. Spells require verbal commands and power stances, runes require certain symbols in certain placements, sigils require… a lot of complicated things, but enchantments? The only thing they require is fairydust ink, and that's only because Basden doesn't have quite enough magic to make them work on his own.

Enchantments don't draw their power from particular symbols or words - they draw them straight from feelings. Because of that, people often find enchanting a little too nebulous, but Basden loves it exactly for that: he so rarely has the right words to say what he means. People misunderstand him all the time, but enchantments? They always know exactly what he's feeling, and his wants, his hopes, his dreams come to life in the lines he draws.

Aflick of the nib, and Basden can make Marla’s laugh ring sweet in his ears.

  He can draw Pauline’s smile, colour in the warmth of Janet’s embrace.

He can make real the feeling of _everything’s going to be okay._

He can do anything here.

In this one tiny piece of his life that's his and only his, he can truly be free. Sometimes, he spends hours at his workstation, painting himself a magical world where his dreams come true.

Hours. He never used to spend hours, but then again, he never used to live in a world he dreaded returning to.

Basden stops his pen at that thought - that’s another thing he loves about enchantments, how easy it is to keep the sad thoughts from becoming real - and sighs. After a moment, he starts drawing again, drawing the memory of a hand squeezing his shoulder.

“Hey, darling,” He sketches a voice that makes him smile. “Whatcha up to?”

Closing his eyes, Basden traces her face, draws the dimples in her cheeks and the sparkle in her smile. He can see her now, see her like she’s right in front of him, living and breathing and tapping her claws against the arm of his chair.

“That… that would be amazing, Basden. To stay at home every full moon... Marla could grow up without ever having to step foot inside one of those awful werewolf shelters. You really think you could make an enchantment like that?”

Basden draws himself hugging her. Draws her warmth, draws the wonder in her eyes. It’s so vivid, so real, so wonderful, that he can’t help but reply.

“I don’t know if I can,” He says to her, and reaches out, cups her face. “But if you really think it would make life better for you and Marla, I want to make it.”

He draws her closer, feels the warmth of her breath, the warmth of her love. He smiles.

“And enchantments are all about making your wants real.”

She giggles at that. “You dork,” she says, and he chuckles back.

“Yeah, uh, that last bit got a bit… pretentious, but um-”

“I liked it. I love my pretentious Professor Basden Mauriciano.”

“Heh, my students certainly don’t- oh!” He laughs as she presses him against her. “Lizzie! You’re-”

A finger brushes past his lips. “Shhh. You’re gonna wake the baby.”

He smiles as she tucks a strand of hair behind his ears, and leans in closer. Her lips brush against his, so real, so warm, so heart-achingly familiar-

Too real. Too real, and suddenly it feels _wrong, what the hell is he doing?!_ Basden jerks back and the pen comes off the page - the enchantment breaks. Lizzie dissolves back into memory, leaving him in a cold basement, with nothing but cramps in his writing hand and ink stains on his fingers.

He’s wide-eyed, breathing hard. With one trembling hand, he reaches up and touches his lips, shudders at the lingering sensation of her warmth… and at how much he missed it.

Basden jerks out out of his chair, letting the pen fall out of his hand and clatter on the floor, spilling ink like blood in a crime scene. Blood on his hands… he backs away.

He really, _really_ shouldn’t have done that. Janet… he really betrayed her trust just now. She’d be so upset, and rightfully so...

He can’t keep something like this from her.

No, he just- he can’t, that’s not right. She has a right to know. She’ll be angry, but he deserves that. They need to talk it out - communication is key to a healthy marriage, right? That’s what Lizzie always-

Goddammit. No. Not helpful, brain.

Basden shakes his head clear, and darts up the steps two at a time. “Janet? Janet, um, can I please talk to you?”

* * *

 

Basden technically only needs one enchantment pen, but over the years he’d accumulated a good twenty or so - they came from birthdays, from Christmases, from students he’d taught. Some of them were really nice: the one he used most often, gifted to him by his enchantments professor way back when he was finishing his doctorate, was made of sleek black Magician’s glass with a gold-leaf nib. It was specifically for enchantments - the glass was made to focus and purify the magic, making the lines it drew much more powerful, much more vivid.

(It worked well. A little too well, apparently)

He kept the rest in a drawer, but every now and again he liked to take them out and look at them, smiling at the memories they brought back.

Like he's doing right now.

Looking at them, snapped into pieces, and hurled into the trash can. They sit amongst the remains of dinner; shards of Magician’s glass glitter over a glob of rice, and a golden nib, tip bent at a right angle, is sticking into some chicken.

_Janet, wait! I still need those for my job!_

_Well, why don’t you use the ones at work, then! Maybe you’ll be able to restrain yourself when you’ve got an audience!_

Basden sighs. He glances once more down at the trash can, then closes the lid and turns away. Shuffles back to the couch in the living room, and listens to the springs creak as he sits himself down.

It’s dark outside; who knows how late it is, too. And cold - he wraps a thin blanket over his legs, and shivers. Scowls.

Stupid. He’s so, so _stupid_ sometimes. And it’s like he’s getting worse - it’s like he can’t do anything right anymore.

He stares at his hands, watches the shadows play across his palms. What happened to him?

Why can’t he just… If he could only… ugh. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore.

The ink’s still glittering on Basden’s fingertips. He sighs, and slumps against a pillow, drawing his blanket over his shoulders and feeling his feet stick out the other end. He shifts around, trying to get comfy; first he faces the coffee table, then he lies flat and stares at the ceiling, then he makes a face and tries to lie on his side again-

Yellow eyes greet him when he turns back to the coffee table. Basden lets out a yelp and flings himself backwards off the couch.

“Aah! What the-!” He scrambles to his feet and backs away from the demon. “Wh-what are you- what are you doing here!”

The demon just stares at him, wordlessly. Its tail flicks from side to side, but otherwise it’s still. Basden frowns.

“Just watching me, huh?” He says, in a tone that’s a little more snappish than he ever thought he’d talk to a demon with. “Okay, well, thanks for scaring me half to death. Loooove that.”

He watches the demon yawn. Rows and rows of sharp teeth are on display, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m tired too. I was about to go to sleep before you popped in on me... l-look, do you want something?” He glances at the kitchen. “Are you hungry? Do, uh, do demons get hungry?”

It just stares at Basden. He narrows his eyes.

“I know you talk. I’ve heard you. Are you hungry? Y-yes or no?”

The demon slinks off the coffee table and trots into the kitchen.

“I’m taking that as a yes, then.” Basden opens the fridge. “Alright, can I give you something to eat so you’ll leave me alone?”

“Iͅt̥̞̯̗'s̳͖͝ ̞̖̞̥̟̩̗͝a ̲̟̰̻̖̙d̪̥̞̩͍e͇̼̪͍̤̫̳a̭̤̜̪̠͚͖l͢.̦̦͖”

 

He jerks up at the voice - that still sends a shiver down his spine. He looks at the demon, sitting patiently on the counter, and manages a weak thumbs up.

“A-alright? I-I’ll, um, see what I can find for you.” Basden rifles through the leftover section. “You know, um, maybe it’s fine if you don’t talk. That way I can pretend you’re like, I-I dunno, a stray cat or something… Do you like stir fry?”

The demon growls, and he puts it back.

“O-okay, sheesh. You’re missing out though, Janet actually makes it really good.” He hesitates at that. “Janet... you know what’s her favourite? My fajitas, let me see if-”

It growls again. He freezes for a second… then he slams the fridge door and whirls around.

“Well I’m _sorry_ but I don’t have souls in my fridge!” Basden glares at the demon. “W-we have normal human food and that’s it! That’s all I-I can give you, and if that's not good enough...”

It just stares back up at him, completely unfased by his outburst. He’s reminded that the thing he’s yelling at could literally rip the soul from his body, and he takes a deep breath.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Just… having a rough day. I’ll keep looking.”

“F̺̤̻̮̺͕̖͞r̫e͉̜͎͙e͢z͟e̥̳̻͇̠̗̤͟r̶͎.”

 

“Freezer…? Oh, you want something from the freezer?”

The demon perks up as he opens it.

“We don’t really have much in here,” He pushes the English chocolate to one side and picks up a packet of something. “What is this - peas? You want some frozen peas, or-”

Like a flash, the demon darts past his face and grabs something out of the freezer.

“Whoa! Wha-” Basden turns, and sees the demon shredding the wrapper off of a chocolate bar. “Hey! That’s not for you, that’s for Pauline!”

It gulps down the wrapper, then bites down on the chocolate and thrashes it around to break off a chunk. Slobber goes everywhere, and a second later the frozen-solid bar breaks in half and smacks him right in the face.

“Agh! You-! Ohhh, you are… you are just a demon, aren’t you.” He picks up the remaining half, and holds it away from the demon when it reaches for it. “No, you can’t have this! I don’t care if it’s already covered in your… in your gross slobber, this is a matter of principle!”

The demon growls, and it reminds Basden of the dog he used to have back when he was a kid. That’s probably why the next words to come out of his mouth are:

“No! Bad!”

To his surprise, the demon actually flinches at his words. He blinks in surprise, then an idea forms in his head. It might be a terrible idea that gets his face torn off, but he’s already done about twenty things he thought it’d kill him for already, so what the hell.

He takes a deep breath, and holds the chocolate up above its head. “Sit!” He says, and takes the chocolate back when it jumps. “No! Sit, then you’ll get it!”

The demon cocks its head at him.

“You know what I’m saying! Sit!”

It’s still for one more second… then it actually sits. Basden breathes a sigh of relief, then he breaks off a piece of chocolate and holds it out.

“Alright. Here you go.” He notices the demon eyeing the rest of the chocolate. “You can get the rest if you keep listening to me, alright?”

It quickly devours the piece, and Basden looks around the kitchen. Demonic slobber coats a good portion of the room now, and he notes with a grimace that it’s starting to eat away at the walls. He breaks off another chunk of chocolate.

“A-alright, you’ve made a huge mess of the kitchen, so I-I want you… I want you to clean it up and then you can have this.”

It seems to glare at Basden now, and after a second of silence passes, he thinks he might have overestimated his abilities. He watches its tail flick from side to side, and then it speaks.

“I̧̯ ҉̰̹̣̫͈̦c͙͈l̵̳͇͓e͡a̭͈̫͚̪̜͞ṋ͡ ͏̪̟̫tͅh̻͙̘ͅȩ̥̙̦ ͕͇k̭̳͙͙̦̺̥̕i̹͇̜̳̟̪̫t͓̩̫̞̭͓͡c͔̩̗͇̘h̭͇̘e̡̘̭̺̻͉̝ͅn̶̫͚̺ f̳̗or͓̖͓̗̙͖͓͢ ̪͝c̗͈̤̭͙h͔͓͚̩̩̩̕o̪̪c̟̜o͇l̘̣̮͎̙͢a͉͢t͖̘̗̯̞͜ȩ̰̮̰̺̖͓ͅ.̬͕” It warbles. ”T̫̝ẖ̹̠̮̙͎a͈̼̫̲̖̳͉t͎̬͟'̭̦͉̳̖͜s̱̝̣̖ ̧̝a̦̖ ͉̰d̦͙͍̣̮̜̞ȩ͉̭͎͈͖̥a̶͓̯l̘̥̫.”

 

“Uhh, sure, deal. Just do it, please. Put it all back to normal.” Basden watches the room shimmer for a second, and when it comes back into focus, the slobber is gone, and so’s the second piece of chocolate. He breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. Thank you. W-well, there’s just one final thing I need to-”

Basden feels for the last piece of chocolate, but it’s not in his hands. He blinks in surprise.

“What-”

“I̤̟̗̤̖̦̰̕ ͍̝̤̣͠c̤l̫̮e̻̮͘a̰̬n̢͖e̴͖͔̼d̜̺ͅ ͏̰th͘e ̷̮̺̠ki͕͕͍t̲̞c̼̥̳h͇͕̜͢e̘̦͙ņ̜̙̮ ̛͔͉̭͚̰ͅf̷͖̺̳̥̺o͕r͔̜͎̰͠ ̟̼͔̺ch̯̣͟o̢̭̺̘̦͈c̱͈͇̩̣̠̥o͉̯͍͈͍̘l̪̹̪̱̬a͖̹̕t̴̠̱e̯͍͓̳̦̹̬.̢͉̲” says the demon, and got a _very_ nasty smile on its face now. “F̤͇͕or ̰̙͚a̞͕̻͙̟l̪̩͓͕̯͖͎l̷̦̲̖̬ ͙͍̪̯ͅṯ̜͖͖h̥̳̮e̻̮ ͏̯̥̱̤̙̦͍c̲͝h̝͖͇̺oc̯o̶l͈a̞̗͉͡ͅt̵͖̪e͏̫̮ͅͅ.̤̱̬”

 

Oh... duh. He feels stupid again.

The demon stands up and stretches, its claws scraping against the edge of the counter. It smacks its lips, then it walks off the side of the counter and- stands on thin air. Apparently it can do that, Basden thinks.

“Th̜a̟͉̤͎n͏̹̪̤͎k̢͕̠ ̛̥̖͓y͜ou̦͚͍͞,̪̜̹ h̖u̦͟m͞a̟̪n,” says the demon, and the reverb in its voice is a little toned down. “I͡ ̧w͠il̷l̷ ͡lęa͡v̷e y̢ou alo̴n̵e n̵o҉w̸,̶ as ͜ag͠reed.”

He blinks. “Uh… okay. Good, um… thanks?”

It then turns and walks into the ceiling, phasing through solid wall and disappearing out of sight. Basden is alone again; he lets out a breath of air he didn’t even realise he was holding, and sinks against the counter.

That was… that was something that just happened to him. That was real. Wow.

He should go to bed now, before he thinks about that encounter too hard.


	4. Chapter 4

_Poke_. “Dad.” _Poke._ “Dad.”

Basden groans at the feeling of something squashing his cheek. He cracks an eye open and stares at the fuzzy green figure of Pauline’s school uniform. A bowl of cereal in one hand, she’s nudging him with the TV remote in her other one.

“You fell asleep on the couch, Dad.”

“Hmm...?” He rubs his eyes, drags his hands down his face. “Oh, I, uh, I guess I did…”

“You’re a weirdo. Can I sit here?”

“Huh?”

She waves the remote at him. “I wanted to watch my show… um, are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were super asleep-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He heaves himself up and pats the seat. “Watch your show, kid. I was gonna get up anyway.”

Pauline nervously perches next to him. She turns on the TV, and noise washes into his brain; Basden blinks, slowly, trying to shake off the grogginess that’s muddling up his mind like fog.

His back’s got a hell of a crick in it… ow, hurts to stretch. He’s getting a little too old to be sleeping on the couch.

“...Dad? Dad?”

“Wha… what is it, Pauline?”

“Do you, um, do you know math?”

He frowns. “Math? What do you- oh, you need some help with school?”

“No, I-I don’t need help, I can do it on my own!” She tenses up. “Um, nevermind, nevermind, it’s fine…”

Basden watches her stare ahead at the TV, pointedly ignoring eye contact. He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? It’s no trouble to me, kid. I’ve taught math classes before. If you need me to go over something with you, there’s nothing in middle school that’s gonna stump me.”

“Are you sure?”

He shuffles closer. “Sure I’m sure! What are you having trouble with?”

“I’m not having trouble with anything!” Pauline shrinks back at that; words spill out of her mouth faster and faster and faster. “I-I just, there’s a test on Friday a-about algebra and I don’t know if I fully get it, I-I don’t know if I’m gonna get an A and Mom’s gonna be really mad at me if I don’t get an A so I need to-”

“Whoa, whoa. It’s okay! We’ll go over it tonight, alright?” He gives her a smile. “You’ll do fine.”

She doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she nods. Basden opens his mouth to say more-

But at that moment there’s a bloodcurdling _scream_ from the kitchen.

“Marla?!” He’s on his feet in a second. “What happened? Are you-”

“It’s gone!”

“What’s gone? Marla?”

Rounding the corner, he spots her - unharmed,  _thank the stars_ \- gaping open mouthed at the freezer. She turns to him with that same shocked expression.

“Somebody ate all my chocolate!”

Basden’s heart is still hammering in his chest. He lets out a breath, and lets his shoulders relax. “Please don’t scream like that again.”

“Where’d my chocolate go, though?” She looks over at Pauline, staring wide-eyed from the couch. “Did you eat it?”

She shakes her head.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t even think I’d be mad - I’d be honestly impressed. This is a lot of chocolate gone missing right now.” She chuckles. “But seriously, where’s it at? Dad?”

Pauline backs up to the stairs. “I-I’m going to my room…”

“You shouldn’t be having chocolate for breakfast, Marlie.” Basden watches her dart out of sight, then leans in close. “It is gone, though. Your, uh, pet ate it last night.”

“What? All of it?”

“Yes. All of the chocolate is gone.”

“Wow… aww, dammit, Toother!” She turns around, and suddenly the demon is on the counter looking very sorry for itself. “I was really looking forward to that! How’d you even fit them all in? Those were three huge bars!”

“Four. It ate Pauline’s, too.”

“Oh. Whoops. Sorry Dad; or should I say sorry to her, or…?”

“It’s fine.” Basden shuffles away from the demon. “Just get it off the counter, please.”

Marla nods, then stabs a finger upstairs. “Alright, Toother, you are not super selling yourself to my Dad! Go back to my room! No, don’t give me the puppy dog eyes - off you go!”

It turns around and seems to _twist_ out of existence. Basden lets out a sigh.

“It listens to you much more than it does to me.”

“Yeah, we’re buds!” She picks out a box of cereal. “Sorry, Dad, didn’t realise he gave you trouble last night.”

“It’s fine.”

“So what were you doing downstairs anyway?”

He looks up, and she’s grinning at him all of a sudden. “What?”

“I saw your little set up on the couch.” Marla walks back into the living room, eating cereal straight out of the box. “Looked real comfy - not!”

“Oh, heh,” he trails behind her. “Don’t worry about it, Marlie. It wasn’t too bad.”

“What were you doing down there? J’s all mad at you again?”

“Um, yes-”

“Oh my stars, she’s ridiculous.”

Basden frowns. “No, uh, don’t say that, Marla. Try… try to be understanding-”

She scoffs at that.

“Marla-”

“Oop, speak of the devil.”

She leans back on the couch, and Basden turns at the sound of footsteps coming down the staircase. It’s Janet; he sees the icy expression she’s wearing, and tries for a smile.

“O-oh, good, um, good morning!” His voice jumps an octave; he ignores the giggle-snort Marla breaks into from beside him. “How did you, how did you sleep?”

Janet reaches the bottom and gives him a withering look… then turns and walks into the kitchen without saying a word. He sighs.

“Ooooooh...” Marla shoves some cereal in her mouth. “She _maaaad_.”

“Marla, please.”

She keeps snickering away, and a second later Janet comes storming out of the kitchen and snatches the cereal box out of her hand.

“Wha- hey! Ever heard of please?”

“No eating in the living room.”

“Since when was that a rule?” Marla watches her stalk back into the kitchen and get out a bowl. “Helloo? Janet? Since when was that a-”

“Stop arguing with me, Marla, I really can’t take it today.”

“But I’m not-”

“I don’t care, just shut up or go to your room!”

Janet she brings the bowl down with a _thunk_ at that - Marla clamps her mouth shut. Basden can feel her shoot him a look, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. He clears his throat and shuffles forwards.

“Uh, Jannie?” He leans on the doorway, watching her wrench the fridge open and stick her head in, out of his sight. “Um, I-I’m heading into work for a few hours, Jannie… I can swing by the, um, the grocery store on the way back? If… If you’d like that...”

Without picking anything out, Janet slams the fridge door shut. Then she grabs both the bowl and the box of cereal and walks past him like he’s not even there, heading back upstairs without another word.

“Uh… o-okay. I’ll look at the, um… shopping list... Have a nice day, dear! I love you... I’m sorry.”

No reply. Basden’s strained smile finally falls off his face, and his shoulders sink. It’s going to be like this for a while, it seems.

“Smooth, Dad.” Marla crosses her arms. “Real smooth. So since when was ‘no eating in the living room’ a thing?”

He blinks. “Huh?”

“Since two seconds ago when Pauline left, or is this another one of those rules that only applies to me?”

"Oh, uh, no, you can eat in the living room. Janet’s a little upset right now, she probably just-”

“Ah, so you do admit her rules are just reactionary bullshit!”

His head shoots up. “What? No, Marla, I was just saying-”

“That she makes up random rules whenever she’s mad at something? Sounds like bullshit to me.”

“Marlie, she’s…” He sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Can we, can we please not discuss Janet right now? I’m sorry, she’s just… having a rough day today.”

Marla lets out a huff of air, but she does drop the subject. A few moments later, in a more even tone, she says, “So you’re going into work today? I thought you took the week off.”

“I did, but I have some enchantments I want to transcribe. I’ll be a couple hours… do you want anything from the store?”

“Can I come with?”

Basden looks over at her. “You want to... come with me? Oh, you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“Don’t have to, but I want to! You’re not teaching a class today, right?” She grins. “C’mon, let me hang out at your office! Just like old times - it’ll be fun!”

“Well, it probably won’t be fun. I’ll be busy-”

“Then I promise I won’t disturb you, Dad! I’ll bring my laptop; you’ll work on work stuff, I’ll work on school stuff! It’ll be super serious study time!”

He raises an eyebrow. “That sounds dreadfully boring for you, Marlie. Are you sure?”

“Heck yeah, I’m sure!” She nudges him. “C’mon, off-fice trip! Off-fice trip! Off-fice trip!”

“Well… If you really do promise, I suppose I could take you-”

“Yes!”

Basden chuckles as she punches the air. “Not sure why you’re so excited, but okay, then. We’re leaving in ten minutes - why don’t you get dressed?”

She races up the stairs, and he watches her go. He almost swears he sees something follow, right by her ankles.

* * *

 

“Ah. So this is why you’re so excited.”

“Can I get a soda?” Marla leans into his arm as he pulls into a gas station. “Pleaaaase, Dad?”

“Hmm… soda for breakfast doesn’t sound so healthy.”

“I had breakfast! I had cereal! C’mon, Dad, pleaaaaase, I didn’t get to eat any of my English chocolate!”

“No, you didn’t. Because the pet you brought in ate it.”

“Wha- you’re really not gonna let me have one?”

“I didn’t say that.” A smile tugs at his lips as Marla pauses. “I didn’t not say that, though. We’ll see.”

She flops dramatically against the window. “Oh, the suspense! It’s... killing me…”

“Is it now.”

“I’m dying… from the sugar deprivation…”

“Sugar deprivation?”

“It’s a real thing…” Slumping in her seat, she sticks her tongue out. “Bleh. I’m dead.”

You’re dead?”

“I’m dead. Here lies - err, sits - Marla, dead of no sugar.”

“Oh, dear.” Basden parks by a pump. “I hope soda has regenerative properties.”

She perks up. “I’ve heard it does!”

“That’s lucky. This ride might have started to smell, otherwise.”

“Wha- hey! My dead body would smell lovely, thank you very much!”

He blinks at that, then lets out a shocked snort. “Morbid. That’s, ah… well, I started it, I suppose.”

“C’mon, Dad, I am gonna start smelling at the rate we’re getting out of the car!”

“Heh, uh…” She opens the door, and he catches her shoulder. “Hey, wait, um, why don’t you stay in the car? I-I’ll go and pay. ”

Basden watches her pause. Her smile stays on her face, but she deflates, a little. Almost unconsciously, one hand comes up the side of her neck to brush against her yellow-and-red striped ear tag.

“Can’t I just go outside? I’ll stay by the car.” She does a small laugh. “Heh, my legs, they’re getting cramped! Yeah…”

He thinks on it, and then nods. “Alright, but, uh, do stay by the car, please.”

“I will, I promise! Thanks, Dad.”

“No problem, Marlie.” He puts an arm around her and hugs, a little tightly. “I love you. I’ll get your soda.”

“Love you too.”

They both get out, and Basden glances back a couple times as he heads into the store. Watches Marla stretch, then lean back on the car as she looks around the environment. Even from a distance, the fluorescent eartag flashes him every time she turns her head.

At that, he grimaces. He’s not technically supposed to leave her unsupervised... he'll be quick.

Basden darts into the gas station, grabs a soda, and waits in line. It’s a little longer than he’d’ve liked; he taps his foot, and keeps looking back, out of the glass door.

A car pulls upright alongside his - some kind of old, off-white beater missing its bumper. He gets a little pit in his stomach.

Four people pile out and… they walk past Marla. As expected - he knew, most likely, that nothing was going to happen - but it still gives him a little rush of relief.

Basden steps forward in line, and glances back at the people again. They’re about Marla’s age, he notes - probably a year or so older, if they’re driving. By the way they’re laughing and shoving each other, they’re clearly a group of friends just having a good time.

Back by the car, he spots Marla staring at them as well. She’s leaning on the hood, leaning very far forwards, as close as she can get to them.

He can’t make out her expression, but she’s still. Just staring at them. Listening to them laugh.

They walk up to the door, and Basden turns back to the front before he looks creepy. He can certainly hear them once they’re through, though.

“Yooo! That sounds crazy!”

“Yeah, I had one helluva weekend. How was yours, Sandy?”

“Eugh, work. Always work.”

“True, true. Hey, I’m gonna get a soda - you guys wanna snack or something?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“No, thanks.”

“Hmm… I’ll get a soda too.”

“I’ll get it for you, Sandy.” One girl steps away. “Pitt, right?”

“Yeah, Cherry Pitt.”

There’s a couple chuckles.

“Ugh, gross.”

“You heathen.”

“Oh, screw all of you. Cherry Pitt’s the best!”

“Haha, I’ll get it for you, Sandy. Even if you’re objectively wrong.”

Basden reaches the counter and pays. He shuffles past the group, then jogs outside, soda cold against his fingers. Marla waves at the sight of him.

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hi, Marlie!” He hands her the drink. “Here you are.”

“Thanks! I was looking forward to this.” She fans herself with the neck of her hoodie. “Man, it’s hot out today, isn’t it? Like an oven - I dunno how people used to live without AC.”

“You want me to turn on the car?”

“Huh? Oh, nah.” There’s a _psshhh_ as the soda opens. “I’m good out here.”

Basden starts the gas pump, and as it’s filling up, he notices the four teenagers walking out of the building. They’re coming back to the car, and he watches Marla stiffen at the sight of them.

For a split second, she shoots a look at the front door. Then she flips herself around rather abruptly, leaning on the boot of the car, ear-tagged side facing away, in such a forced-casual pose Basden almost lets out a snort. He swallows the sound and tries not to look like he’s watching as the teenagers approach.

“How’s that gasoline tasting, Sandy?”

“Hah! Yeah, how’s it tasting?”

“I’m about to leave all y’all here.”

They pass by Marla, and the girl in front - Sandy, probably - catches her eyes for a second. Marla tips her drink, and in a lower voice she goes: “Yo.”

“Oh, uh, hey.” Sandy flashes her a polite smile before looking back at her group. “Can somebody turn on the AC while I’m filling up? It is hot as hell out here.”

They’ve gone behind the gas pumps, out of sight of Marla. They don’t notice how her tiny, trying-not-to-blush smile breaks into a great big beaming grin. She takes a swig of soda, shoots a glance at Basden - he’s still pretending not to watch - and then slowly backs away, back into the safety of the car.

Basden sees all that, and he can’t help but give a smile of his own. Her happiness is infectious, and when he finishes filling up and gets back in the car, he sees her messing with some DVD’s in the glove department; she puts one on, and giggles at him when it starts to play loud drums.

“What even is this music, Dad? I love it!”

One of Lizzie’s favourites - ‘Heard This All Before’ by Chipped Ceramic. That makes him chuckle. “I haven’t listened to this in a while.”

“Mmm... duh - your boyfriend! “ She tries to sing along to lyrics she doesn’t know. “Uh, uh… -take you on a ride! Something something baby!”

Basden pulls out of the station as the chorus ramps up. He starts to sing along, quietly at first. Marla joins in with volume when the verses repeat, and she lifts his voice.

The two of them cruise along the road, belting their hearts out.

* * *

 

Enchanting is one thing. Transcribing enchantments into a usable runic format? That’s an entirely different beast. Basden’s sitting at the desk in his office, rubbing his temple as he tries to decide whether ‘squiggly diagonal happy line’ should be expressed with the symbol for ‘joy’ or the one for ‘triumph.’ It’s a slow, frustrating, headache-inducing process, and he knows there’s still another fifty lines left to be wrestled in a similar manner.

This is why he thought Marla would’ve been bored to tears, but, sneaking a look at her, she seems perfectly content sitting in his swivel chair by the corner. Her laptop’s set to the side - clearly she did get tired of working on her classes - but she’s spinning around gently, reading one of the many books he has on shelves lining his office walls.

He raises an eyebrow. She never used to like these trips to work.

From when she was around ten until she was twelve, Basden used to bring her along whenever he didn’t have to teach a class. She’d just gotten kicked out of school for the first time, and Lizzie was… gone, so he couldn’t leave her home alone.  He could call a babysitter - and he did when he had to teach - but the only one in the county who didn’t run away screaming the second he handed them keys to the basement safe room charged quite a high rate for her service.

So to the office Marla went. He tried to make it fun for her, but he knew it was boring. She’s like Lizzie was - she loves to be loud, to sing, to shout, to dance and laugh and run around without a care in the world.

But here, she has to sit. She has to be still. She has to be silent. No amount of sodas or candy or video games was ever able to keep her happy, and it was a relief for the both of them when she could go back to school again.

Funny… that was a couple years ago now, but Basden can remember it like it was yesterday. Maybe that’s why it’s so jarring to see her now.

Sitting quietly, with a little smile on her face.

Just reading away.

Marla looks up at that moment, and catches him staring. She grins, and he grins back before returning to his work. All without a sound… huh.

He supposes she’s older now. She can appreciate a little quiet time in a way she couldn’t when she was ten.

It’s nice, Basden thinks, just to sit with her like this. Maybe he should start inviting her again.

That’s when there’s a knock on the door. Looking up, he sees the blurry figure of a face peering through the frosted glass.

“Who’s that?” Marla asks. He shrugs.

“I don’t know… who is that?”

“Professor?” comes a voice; Basden suppresses a groan at the sound. That sounds like one of his students, and… well, it’s not that he hates teaching, it’s just that he’s much more interested in the portion of his job spent researching enchantments as opposed to the one explaining them to others.

(Plus, he had to pick up a Magic 101 class this year, and now he has a bunch of freshman banging down his door all through his office hours to ask him questions they could’ve googled. He suspects this is what is happening now.)

The voice continues. “Professor, um, can I ask you something? Your door says you’re out of office until Friday, but I could see you in here, so…”

He sighs. “Come in.”

The door swings open, and a gangly young man with a fat blue backpack comes shuffling inside. He hits a bookshelf with it while he’s turning, and a neat row of hardbacks topple sideways.

“Hi, Professor!” He walks up to the desk. “I just had some questions about the homework?”

“Alright. Why don’t you sit down, and we’ll go over them?”

The student looks around, and that’s when Basden remembers Marla has the chair. Marla seems to realise it too; she jumps up and wheels it over.

“Oop, sorry dude. I stole this from you.”

The student takes the chair. “Oh, thanks! I didn’t know where I was supposed to-”

He looks up at Marla, and then he _freezes_ , staring at her with rapidly widening eyes. But he’s not really staring at her - he’s staring at the tag on her ear. The fluorescent, impossible to miss, red-and-yellow striped tag sticking out of her hair.

Basden watches how her smile goes crooked.

How she tries to hide it with a hand.

How she tries to laugh it off.

“Haha, you trying to catch flies with that mouth?” She edges away, giving Basden a _look_. “I thought you came to ask questions, right?”

Basden clears his throat. “Um, th-this is my daughter, Marlene. She’s just helping me out for, for today… So, homework!”

The student glances back at him. His jaw opens and shuts; finally he seems to find his voice. “W-werewolf!”

“Yes. Just like the fifty or so werewolves that attend or work at the university here-”

“But!” He stabs a finger at his ear. “It’s the, the dangerous type! Unstable transformer!”

Marla snorts. “Autobots, roll out.”

“Can she even be here? Like, you know, legally?”

Basden grits his teeth. “Yes, Marlene is legally allowed to be here with me, and as you can see, she is completely fine. Please sit down.”

“But…”

“You had some questions about your homework?”

With great hesitation and a lot of glances back at Marla, the student sits down in the chair and brings his work out. As Basden’s going over it, he’s jumpy, distracted, on edge; every time Marla so much as twitches, he’s ready to run for the door. As for Marla, she sulks in the corner at first, but the confusion and the hurt and the frustration in her face slowly gets pushed down and replaced by a wide, dangerous grin.

Basden recognises that look. She steps forward, and he knows that things are not about to turn out well for this student.

“So…” She says, and comes up right behind the guy. He almost jumps out of his chair. “What’s your name, bud?”

“Uh… J-Jason? Jason.”

“Jason Jason? Huh, that’s a weird name. Your parents must’ve hated you.”

Basden lets out a sigh. “Marla, please leave him alone. We’re nearly finished.”

“Wow, you’re nearly finished?” She scoots closer as he edges away. “That must be record time for you, getting all your questions answered this fast!”

“Um-”

“You know, ‘cause I bet you just generally have a lot of questions about stuff in your life.” Marla’s smile sharpens. “You don’t strike me as very bright.”

“Marla...”

“Heck, I think _I_ belong here more than you! At least I know how to turn my homework in on time, you know what I’m saying?”

“Marla, that’s, that’s enough.” Basden cringes at the glare she shoots him. “Just let us finish, please.”

Jason rises to his feet, trembling. “A-actually, I-I think I’m good. I can figure it out from here.”

“Are you sure? You can stay-”

“No! No, uh, I have somewhere to be.” He backs away from the desk. “I need to go.”

“Aww, alright.” Marla waves at him. “Bye, Jason Jason! It was so nice to be a normal human with you, I- ack!”

She drops to her hands and knees, and Basden’s heart catches in his chest. Jason’s eyes bulge like saucers.

“Oh, no!” She cries out. “It’s happening!”

Jason backs away clutching his bag. “Wh-what’s going on? What are you-”

“The chaaaaange!” Rolling onto her back with a melodramatic wail, Marla extends one hand out to him. “It’s… upon me… Get out while you still have time! Ahhhhh!”

He lets out a high pitched scream and bolts out of the door. Once he’s gone, her wailing starts to sound suspiciously giggly.

“Rahhhh… I’m dying… dying…” She flops her arms down. “And I’m dead. Bleh.”

Basden looks down at her, his heart still hammering in his chest. He swallows a couple times, and then speaks.

“Marla…”

“No Marla here. Dead people can’t talk-”

“ _Marla_!” His raised voice makes them both jump. “Sorry! Sorry, but you can’t just… you really shouldn’t joke about that.”

“Aww, c’mon, it was funny! Did’ja see his face?”

“N-no, you’re not getting it. Jokes like that, they could get you in a-a lot of trouble, Marla. And I’m liable for you.” He makes a face. “So, _please_ , don’t.”

Marla stands up. Her cheeks are burning with embarrassment; she scowls to hide that, hunches up her shoulders and crosses her arms and stares him down defiantly.

“Well-! Fine! Next time someone decides to treat me like a freak, I guess I’ll just sit there and take it! Wouldn’t want to get in trouble, would we!”

“That’s not what I’m saying-”

“I didn’t even start it! I was just sitting there - he’s the one who came in here and started acting like I was gonna tear his fucking face off!” She lets out a huff. “He was acting _ridiculous_ , so of course I was gonna mess with him! Screw me for trying to have a sense of humour about it!”

“Marla, you should take a deep-”

“Oh, I’m getting all mad again, huh? Run for the hills, the big scary monster raised her voice.” She turns away, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Basden expects her to talk again, but she just keeps breathing, in, and out, in, and out.

She keeps her head firmly turned away, but he can see her hand reach up and wipe her eyes.

Basden sighs. “Marla...”

“What? What else did I do wrong?”

“Marla-”

“I just wanted to have a nice day with you.” Her voice is tight, thick. “I just wanted you to have a nice day with me. I wanted to be good, I didn’t want to be your... your liability.”

She stops, there, and Basden moves out from behind his desk. “Marla,” He says, and puts a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not a liability.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You’re not.” He wraps her up in a hug; she stiffens at that, then relaxes against him. “I had a wonderful day with you, Marlie; you were so good, staying quiet for me while I was working.”

She doesn’t say anything, and he squeezes tighter.

“You really were. In fact, I-I was thinking about letting you come in with me again, but…” He falters. “I-if you were just doing this to please me… I thought you might’ve been enjoying the quiet, but I wouldn’t want you to-”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” She shakes her head. “I did have fun. I blew through my homework, I read some books - it was great! It was nice to be out of the house for a while, you know?”

“Yes. I’m… I’m sure it was.”

They fall into silence, for a moment. Then, in a small, nervous voice, Marla speaks again.

“You’d really like me to come back after the stunt I pulled?”

Basden smiles.

“I would love you to, Marla.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s weird.”

Sunset. Cruising down the road, the same DVD playing, but neither of them are singing. Marla’s fingering the grocery bag in her lap, talking slowly.

“It is, you know?” She laughs a little. “That Jason guy was stupid, but sometimes... I feel like people like him, they’re right.”

Basden turns the music down low. He drives, and listens.

“They make a huge deal out of the werewolf thing, and I don’t want it to be a big deal so I don’t like it, but, I mean, it is a big deal, isn’t it? It’s dangerous, and it’s always _right there_ \- it’s like when you stub your toe, you know? And you want to swear ‘cause it hurts?” She pokes a hole in the bag. “That’s what it feels like when I get mad. I want to swear, I want to _let it out_ , but I can’t. If I do I’ll hurt somebody… or worse.”

It's a familiar metaphor... and a familiar, defeated sigh at the end. Basden reaches an arm out, and she lets him touch her shoulder for a moment.

“I don’t want it to be some big deal, you know?” Shrugging him off, she sinks back against the seat. “We get into arguments, and I don’t want you feel like you’ve gotta tiptoe around me, tell me to breathe all the time…”

“It’s okay, Marla.”

“It’s not okay, though! You’re my _Dad_ , you should get to yell at me for doing dumb stuff, okay! The werewolf joke thing - that was pretty dumb!” She gives a harsh chuckle. “I’m looking back on it and that was a bad idea - I have those sometimes; shocking, I know. Solid zero out of ten, let’s be happy the police weren’t called.”

He laughs a little. “Yes, let’s be happy about that.”

“But you see? I know I do stupid stuff sometimes! I know you’ve gotta call me out on my crap sometimes, and I don’t want you to be scared of doing that!” Marla looks down, down at her hands. She sighs. Then, softly…

“I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

The song that’s playing is fading out now, fading out into silence. Basden puts a hand on her arm, and squeezes.

“I’m not scared of you, Marla. I promise.”

She laughs at that; not a happy laugh. “You’re the only one left who isn’t.”

“That’s not true-”

“You know it is.” Marla reaches over, and turns off the music as it starts again. “You ever see how fast Pauline leaves a room when I walk in? It’s not just all the Jasons out there; she’s just waiting for me to snap all the time. Her and Janet, but Janet’s worse. She tries to make me snap.”

He hesitates, then shakes his head. “No, that’s not… she’s not doing it on purpose, Marla, you two-”

‘Just have _very different personalities_ , yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “Sure. I’m a disaster, and she’s an asshole.”

“She’s not a- ugh.” Basden’s not going to convince her right now; he picks a different battle. “You’re not a disaster, Marla.”

“Oh, yeah? Janet says I am.”

“She doesn’t say-”

“She does. She says that exact word, Dad. Along with a lot of other words.” Marla’s still trying to smile, but the look she shoots him is serious. “You don’t know what she’s like when you’re not here.”

Basden struggles to reply. “Well, I’m sure she didn’t mean… I’m sure it came off differently than she-”

“Oh, so she’s joking with me when she says I'm a disaster child and that I belong in the pound? Don’t you think she’s got a bit of a mean sense of humor, Dad?”

“Well…”

“Whatever.” Marla huffs a sigh. “You’re just gonna defend her no matter what - forget I said anything. Let’s talk about something else.”

“No, no, you should say something if that’s bothering you! I’m glad you told me; that’s not okay for her to make you feel like that.”

She just rolls her eyes again. “Cool, so what are you gonna do, give her a ‘talk’? That worked the last hundred times - I’m sure it’ll change things for realsies now.”

“...Communication is important. I’m sure she doesn’t realise how much she’s-”

“Yeah, sure, alright. Thanks for trying, Dad.”

Marla crosses her arms, and looks away, out of the window. It’s dark outside now. The sun has gone down, he can’t think of anything to say, and they’re nearly home. The rest of the way is spent in silence.

When Basden pulls in, Marla almost immediately takes off her seatbelt. She grabs the bag and opens the door… then pauses, just before she gets out.

“Today was fun,” she says.

“Yeah.” He says back. “Yeah. It, uh, was...”

His sentence ends like it’s unfinished, but he can’t think of anything more to say. Marla gets out of the car after a moment.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too… Marla. Marla?”

She’s already walked away. Basden sighs, and looks down. He notices the car’s still on; he turns the key, turns it off, off the lights go, into darkness. And for a second he sits there in the darkness, hands on a steering wheel he can’t turn anymore.

The lights are on inside. He should go there. With another sigh, he turns, and grabs-

 _Not the handle_. Something furry and warm, then there’s a growl that makes him yelp and tangle up in his seatbelt as he tries to get away...

Yellow eyes are peering at him from just below the window. Yellow eyes - Basden doesn’t know whether that makes him relieved or not. He frowns.

“You again? Why do you have to keep scaring me like this? Why do you…?” He watches the demon step over his legs, walk up his stomach and sit itself down right on his chest. “Um. H-hi.”

It’s lighter than he expected. He holds his breath, waiting for it to say something, to do anything other than stare at him with that… that strangely intense look it’s got on right now. What is it doing? What is it thinking?

He has no idea until it starts to speak.

“I̧ k͝new̕ i͞t.” It rumbles. “I͝ ̴kn͡ew ͠y̧o͡u ̷w͘e͘r͢e _f͈͎͉̝̦a͔m͢i̡̖̣͇l̯i̭a̵̬̻͎͍r̻._ ”

 

Basden blinks. It’s grinning at him now, grinning very, very wide.

“Fa-familiar?” He shrinks away from those teeth. “No, uh, I-I don’t think that’s right. I’ve never met you before I went to-”

“ _Lionel_.”

That word. That name. Basden doesn’t hear a hint of reverb in the demon’s voice; it’s said so softly, so gently, so lovingly… it’s hard to believe it came from a mouth that bares three rows of deadly teeth.

The demon smiles at him with that mouth, smiles at him with eyes that are glowing and inhuman yet, somehow, soft and nostalgic. He doesn’t know what to say, and the demon continues.

“ _Lionel_ ,” The demon says again, savouring that word. “That’s who you are. _Lionel_.”

Basden grimaces. After a moment, he finally finds his voice again.

“Um… I-I don’t…” He clears his throat. “I-I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person.”

It blinks, yet it keeps smiling.

“My name isn’t Lionel, it’s, um, Basden. Basden Mauriciano.” Basden watches its expression flatten to a blankness. “Sorry. I’m sure whoever this Lionel is, you can find them!”

“Yo̷u͏'re di̕ffe͠ren͟t͟.” Says the demon. Not a question, but he nods.

“Um, yes.”

“No͏t̨ L͘io̕ne͡l. ̧Di͡ff̴erent.” Its expression seems to crumple. “D͕͉͟i̛f̧̖̼f͚̠e̻̦͇ṛ̲e̩n̫̬̰t͎͕͚͈ ̷ḁ̸͍̫̞g̮̕a̢͎̠̞̻i͎̺͎̤n̝͞ͅ.̻ A̻l͚̲͉w̤a͍̟̥y̮̦̮͟s̫ ̥̗̘̻͖ͅd҉͍̻i͉̦̞̥̬͖f̶f̠̺͘ḙ̰̖͘r̹̰̫͖ͅe͉̬̰͕n͕t̵, **A̖͔̠L̖̹̜̪̮͚W̩͕̙̱͙̟̼Ą͎̤̩Y̡͈͇̬̙̮̝̻S͓͕ ̯̪̠͇͚͜D͚͍̼͓͇̺͞I̴̜F̞̖̬̼̪͡F̩̰̣̘̺E̞R͉̼̯ͅE̪N҉͉̠̟͚T̶!̼̮̳** ”

 

Basden presses himself against the seat, but the demon isn’t interested in him - not anymore. It makes a noise that’s a terrible mix between a roar and a wail and whirls back into the shadows it came from.

He sits up, breathing hard. With a trembling hand, he reaches for the car door again… and feels nothing.

The demon is gone - physically, at least. There’s still a sort of _presence_ in the air, a heaviness like how it feels when it’s just rained. A sadness, he feels… almost a sulkiness.

Basden gives a wry smile at that. An aura of mopey demon - not something he ever expected to encounter in his life. This whole demon thing was a rollercoaster of these unexpected events... Unexpected names. Mizar, and now Lionel.

What did it all mean?

“Dad?”

Marla’s voice makes him look up. She’s standing by the front door, peering into the darkness.

“Dad? Are you still out here?”

“Um,” Basden untangles himself from the seatbelt and opens the door. “Coming! Coming, sorry!”

“What were you doing?” She gives him a concerned smile as he jogs up to her. “Listening to music, or something?”

“Uh… yeah, um, sure. Just had to let a song play out, I guess.”

“Alright, you do you. Oh, also Janet wants to give you something.”

He blinks. “Wha- _oh, hi Janet_!”

She standing off to the side of the stairs, scowling as she holds a phone up to her ear. One glance in his direction… then her eyes settle on Marla, and the scowl deepens.

“Okay, now go to your room.”

Marla crosses her arms. “What if I don’t wanna?”

“Stop being difficult, Marla!” She snaps. Basden frowns. “Go to your room, your father has to take a business call.”

“Is it, uh, Gaston?” He clears his throat. “I… I don’t mind if she, um-”

Janet cuts him off like he’s not even talking. “Go to your room _right now_ , Marla. This is not a discussion!”

“I dunno, Dad sounded like he didn’t mind if I stayed down here.” She nudged him. “Eh? Whaddaya say? I’ll be quiet, promise!”

Basden blinks. For the first time since the argument last night, Janet actually, properly turns to look at him… and she looks _furious_ ; he quails under the sheer level of malice that’s now being directed at him.

“Uh-um…” He starts. She shakes her head, once, and he cringes. “No, um, why don’t you… why don’t you go to your room, Marla?”

“But Dad-”

“No, no, I-I don’t think… I think you should go. That sounds like a good, um, a good idea.”

Marla stares up at him, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. Her fists clench. After a moment, she turns and stomps upstairs without another word. Janet rolls her eyes.

“Drama queen,” she says, and he grimaces.

“Um… Jannie, a-about Marla, could I maybe, maybe talk to you about-”

“Whatever it is, Basden, it’ll have to wait! My brother’s been on the line for ages waiting to talk to you!” She talks into the phone. “Yes, he’s _finally_ ready. Talk to him now. No, don't- ugh, no, you're not as funny as you think you are. Goodbye.”

Then she shoves it into his hands, and walks away. Basden starts after her, but there’s a voice from the phone - he puts it up to his ear.

“-you been, Basden?” Gaston’s saying in his booming voice. “Any more kidnappings happen to ya? Hah!”

“Hi, uh, Gaston. Haha, nice to-”

“See? I’m hilarious, I don't know what my sis was going on about! Now listen: me and LeFuté, we struck one hell of a deal this morning! Just you wait, old man - you’re gonna love this!”


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re gonna love this!”

“Basden?” Lizzie snorted as he tugged her towards the basement. “Basden, honey, slow down. You’re 'bout to pull my arm off.”

“B-but you’ve gotta see! I finally figured it out, i-it works! It actually works!”

“What works?”

“The thing, the… I’ll show you!” Hands trembling, he unlocked the big steel door and hefted it open for her. “Come on, Lizzie!”

“Wow, you really are excited, aren’t you?” She chuckled as she descended the steps.  “I can’t wait to see this.”

He turned on the light, and it flickered to life, illuminating the little room. The basement looked the same as it always did, mostly empty space except for the far corner where his desk sat. Papers were strewn over the wooden surface, and more were crumpled up and tossed in the general direction of his waste basket. The only thing that had significantly changed was the addition of a sledgehammer; Lizzie spotted it, and he watched her eyebrow arch up.

“What did you buy a sledgehammer for, Bas?””

“Um...” He checked a couple of symbols etched into the bottom of the door. They were glowing blue: active, good. “It’ll all make sense in a second, I promise.”

“Alright... So!” She clapped her hands together. “Show me whatcha got!”

Basden closed the door, and hurried down the stairs. “Yes, I’ll show you. Or, uh, I’ll demonstrate - it’s hard to explain, but you’ll see.”

He felt Lizzie watching him as he hurried over to his desk. He picked up the sledgehammer, and she let out a snort.

“I’m loving this demonstration already.”

“Haha, yeah- Oh!” He hefted it up, and stumbled back from the weight. “I’m okay! This is, heh, heavy.”

“You need help?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Alright. Be careful, honey.” She looked around. “What are you hitting with that? Not the walls, right? Pretty sure these are load bearing.”

Basden stared at his desk. His precious desk, worn and scratched from years of work, with his favourite fountain pen and pictures of his family sitting on its surface… he lined up the shot, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

A leap of faith. This was _going_ to work.

Then he brought the hammer crashing down. There was a snapping, a shattering, a fluttering of papers as the desk splintered in two. Behind him, Lizzie let out a yelp.

“What did you do that for?!”

“It’s fine! It’s a demonstration!” He backed away, staring, pointing. “Look! L-look, it’s working!”

Basden watched with bated breath as the rubble of his desk started to shudder. The two halves rose back up to their original position, splintered edges stitching themselves into one. Broken picture frames fixed themselves, and shards of glass fused back into a smooth surface.

He watched that, and then he watched Lizzie. Watched her eyes go wide, watched her jaw go slack, watched her keep staring long after the desk had repaired itself, her lips moving as she struggled for words.

“What do you think?” Basden couldn’t keep a grin off his face. “I-I made an enchantment for safety and repair, then I transcribed it into a ward and etched it into the door. As long as you’re inside it…”

“You can’t break anything,” She breathed.

“Yes, exactly. I think this could really improve public werewolf shelters - it could even be an alternative to them! I’m going to request permission from the government to start testing it, um…” He chuckled. “We’ll, uh, we’ll see how long that takes, but-”

Lizzie suddenly turned and crashed into the wall. She dug her nails into the concrete, let her claws grow out, let black fur grow in, grow shaggy over her forearms, and tore _down_ ; the gashes she left were long, deep, crumbling… and almost immediately sealing themselves over.

In a matter of seconds, it was like she never made them at all.

“Oh, my stars.” She looked down at her paws, then back up at the wall. “Haha! This is _amazing_!”

And before Basden’s eyes, she just unleashed herself. She ripped and slashed and hacked and threw up great big clouds of concrete dust; chunks of rubble went flying, and he stepped back. He stared at her, wide eyed, his mind flashing back to when he’d seen her act like this before. He’d seen her under the full moon, he’d seen her lose her mind to the beast and destroy anything and everything within reach. The rage, the bloodthirst… it was an intimidating sight, and one he had always found rather hard to watch.

That side of her, he had rationalised, was not Lizzie, just like it was not Marla. That was not who she was; that was a curse she bore one night a month, a beast that was within her, but separate from her. Apart from that one night when it forced its way to the surface, he thought her to be like any other normal human.

That was who she really was, he thought, and that was the part of her he loved.

But looking at her now… it didn’t fit. It wasn’t the full moon, and yet here she was, sprouting fur and tearing at the wall with razor-sharp claws. Here she was, both snarling and laughing. Beast, and human. Neither fully one, nor the other.

Looking at her now, Basden realised the two halves of her weren’t quite as separate as he’d thought. And when she pulled away from the wall, breathing hard, a wild and beaming grin slashed across her face as she watched the claw marks heal up…

He thought that maybe wasn’t such a scary thing.

“Wow,” She huffed, and her voice was gruffer than her fully human one. “I have… I’ve never been able to just… to let go like that… Wow. Wow!”

She laughed that wonderful laugh of hers, and before Basden could react she scooped him up with her furry arms and spun him around in the air.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!” Lizzie squeezed the breath out of him and set him down. “Basden, you have no idea how amazing this is going to be, you…”

She must’ve seen something in his face, something that made her trail off. Something that made her smile shrink a bit, made her blink and shed some of the brightness in her eyes. Looking down at her fur, her claws, the straining buttons on her shirt, something seemed to click.

“Oh... Oh, I’m sorry, honey!” She stepped back, shrank down. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’ll just-”

Basden found his voice. “No, no, it’s okay! You didn’t scare me, you just… just startled me.”

“Yeah, I got way too carried away. Sorry-”

“No, don’t be sorry.” He stepped forwards. “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

Lizzie froze at that. She just stared at him, wide-eyed with shock and only getting wider as he kept stepping forwards, kept approaching her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, close, so close that years later just the memory of this moment would wake him up at night; the fabric of her clothes and the rips in them, the warmth of her skin, the sound of sucked-in breath, and the hesitation before she hugged him back.

Gently, at first. Like she was scared to hurt him. Then tighter.

Then tighter, and she took his breath away.

He buried herself in her shoulder, and thought about how wonderful she was, how lucky he was to have someone like her. So warm, so loving, so… so _Lizzie_ , because that was exactly the kind of person she was.

There were sides to her that he would never understand, parts of her that she’d rather not share with anyone, and that was the kind of person she was, too.

Basden smiled, and in that moment, he swore to give her a place where she could be herself.

* * *

 

“So we’re there, alright!”

Gaston’s voice. Basden nods at the sound of it. “Okay.”

“We’re in the door, we’re in the elevator, alright!”

“Okay.”

“It was playing some music. I didn’t really pay attention but LeFuté mentioned it, he was like ‘Do you know why all elevators play the same sort of music?’ and I asked ‘Why?’ and then he explained.”

“Mhmm.”

“I forgot what he said, but it was interesting. I think. He’s smart, isn’t he?”

Basden taps a hand on the wall. “Yes, um... the meeting?”

“Pushy, pushy - I’m getting to that!” Gaston shuffles through some papers. “Alright, so we pitched your werewolf safe room to the board, and I’m not gonna lie to you, we knocked it out of the park! They were ready to sign any piece of paper we handed to ‘em, Bas!”

“Oh, good. That’s good… it’s, uh, not just a safe room, though. You remembered to mention it’s been approved to contain werewolves during the full moon?”

“Yeah, yeah, we mentioned all the perks. Had a whole slideshow going. They loved it! We’re gonna be rich!”

“They loved it? That’s good.” Basden feels a tug on his sleeve; looking down, and sees Pauline with her schoolbag. He motions for her to wait on the couch. “That’s really good, um, so how fast do they think they can start installing them?”

“Let me see here… Um... Uh…”

Gaston keeps flipping through some pages, and Basden paces in place. Flashes a grin at Pauline. She giggles, and he sticks his tongue out.

“Who is that?” She whispers.

“Just your uncle Gaston.”

“Oh, cool. Can I talk to him?”

“Yes, in a second, Pauline… Uh, Gaston?”

“Still here!” He snaps. “Just finding the stupid… Oh, there it is! On page two... it says six months, Bas! Six months - fast, eh?”

“That is fast. Wow.”

“What can I say, buddy? We’re the best at what we do!”

“You really are. You really... Yeah, that sounds like you did really good. How much are they going to be selling for?”

“Selling for?” More page flipping. “Um… Uh…”

“A-actually, don’t worry about it. Where’s LeFuté?”

“He’s still talking with the board guys. I dunno what’s taking him so long, but once he gets back, we’re going out to celebrate! We’re going up on this London Eye thing... you ever heard of it?”

“Oh, the London Eye!” He smiles. “I wanted to go on that; it’s this big observation wheel in the middle of the city. Really pretty view, you’ll like it!”

“I know what it is, of course.” Gaston chuckles loudly. “Duh! Yeah, it’s gonna be real fun. I bet you wish you were here!”

“Huh? Oh, well-”

“Instead of being at home! Hey, have you been ‘kidnapped’ since you got back, or did Janet lock you outta the liquor cabinet?”

Basden forces a laugh back. “Haha! Um… Pauline’s here, you want to, you want to talk to your niece?”

“How’d she take the news, huh? ‘Daddy, what’s a shummoning shircle?’”

“I-I didn’t see one of those, but-”

“You really still think it happened, don’t you? Hah!”

“Do you want to talk to Pauline?”

“Huh?

“Pauline. Do you want to talk to-”

“Oh, uh, sure, why not? Hand ‘er over.” He gives a little snigger. “I’ve got a little time to _sacrifice_.”

Deciding not to remark on the pun, Basden takes the phone away from his ear, turns, and hands it to Pauline.

“Here he is.”

“Uncle Gaston! Hi!” She smiles. “Yes, I’m doing good! School’s going, um, well. How are you? How is England?”

Gaston’s reply is just a muffled sound, but he sees Pauline giggle and hold the phone a little closer. With a pat on her shoulder, he leaves her to it and walks over to her schoolbag on the couch.

Her homework’s already open on the table. He gives that a quick glance over - just some introductory algebra problems, nothing he couldn’t walk her through in a couple minutes. She probably only needs a little extra nudge, anyway; kids do tend to get confused when people start adding letters to math problems.

He might’ve even gone over this with Marla when she was Pauline’s age… or did Lizzie do that? Lizzie did the homework help more often, but he had a specific memory of helping her with this. Huh.

Basden pushes up his glasses. Well, it doesn’t matter either way.

After shuffling through the papers a little longer, he looks up at Pauline. She’s still on the phone, listening to him talk, and she shoots him a quick smile when their eyes meet. He smiles back, but-

Oh. It’s cold all of a sudden.

The hairs on the back of his neck - they all stand on end.

Basden frowns at this. His eyes shift to the right, through the doorway to the kitchen, and find - ugh, of course - the dark, toothy figure of Alcor the demon staring back at him.

What does he want this time? Basden tries for a nervous smile but the demon just stands there, still as a statue. His expression is unreadable.

Piercing, just like it was in the car. Almost looking through him… or looking for someone else.

Someone _different_.

Basden can’t help but grimace at the thought. Before he can think on it too hard, however, a little gasp brings him back to the present.

“ _Kidnapped?_ What?” Pauline’s voice rings out with tones of shock and uncertainty, making him whirl around to look at her. She’s gripping the phone, a confused frown on her face. “Uncle Gaston? What are you- wait, did you say Dad got _kidnapped?”_

All Basden can make out from the phone is laughter. Her frown deepens.

“Uncle Gaston? U-Uncle- no, wait, what did you mean by, by Dad getting kidnapped? Was that why he came home early? What did you mean? Uncle Gaston?”

Basden jumps to his feet. She stares at him with wide eyes as he walks over, offers his hand.

He’s about to ask for the phone when there’s a flicker in the doorway. A shadow. He glances over at Alcor- But it’s not Alcor.

It’s Janet, and she stalks towards them with such fury in her expression he finds himself scrambling back. She doesn’t spare him a second glance; her eyes are trained on the phone, and she snatches it right out of Pauline’s hands.

 _“Gaston!”_ She shouts his name loud enough to hurt. Pauline yelps and darts behind the stair rail. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re saying to my _twelve year old daughter?!”_

The reply on the line sounds distinctly squirrelly now. Janet cuts him right off.

“I can’t _believe_ you! My _twelve year old daughter_ doesn’t need to hear your stupid jokes about Basden! I don’t- _No, stop!_ I don’t even _care_ what happened at this point, I’m sick of hearing about it and I absolutely don’t want you scaring _my daughter_ with it! She’s _twelve_ , Gaston! You should be _ashamed_ of yourself!”

Basden shirks away from Janet as she paces past the couch. He watches her turn, cringes a little at her red face and set jaw. She glances over at him and rolls her eyes; he tries for a sympathetic smile as she opens her mouth again.

“I don’t _care_ about your stupid sale!” She stalks back into the kitchen, still shouting. “I hate it when you act like this! Why don’t you- _Don’t tell me to calm down!_ You’re being impossible, and you know what? I don’t want you coming to dinner Saturday! No, I don’t! I don’t want you messing around and cracking _completely inappropriate_ jokes about cultists in front of my _twelve year old daughter_!”

Basden can hear her open the screen door and step outside; she slams it shut with a _bang_ that makes him jump. He can still hear her voice, but it’s slightly muffled now... emphasis on the ‘slightly’. Hopefully the neighbors aren’t trying to sleep.

After a moment, he takes a deep breath, forces his shoulders down. Leaning forwards, he picks up Pauline’s homework and glances around for her, but she’s nowhere in sight.

“Pauline?” He calls out. Stands up. “Do you wanna, uh, work on your homework? Hello?”

He walks towards the stairs, but she’s not there. Up on the second floor, light is shining from behind her bedroom door.

Basden sees that, and heaves a sigh. He grabs her backpack - slings it over his shoulder - and shuffles upstairs. Hand on the rail, he feels the wood sliding past his fingers. Hears the shouting coming from outside, and listens to the creaks in every step he takes.

Pauline’s bedroom is the closest to the stairs; her door is undecorated, a clean, sterile white. He knocks, and almost instantly there’s a “Coming!” and the handle turns.

“Dad?” Pauline stares up at him as she opens it. “Oh, um... do you need something?”

He motions to her homework. “No, you, uh, left this downstairs-”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like you were in trouble, kid.” He smiles at her. “Just wondering if you still wanted some homework help?”

She blinks, like she’d completely forgotten about that. Then she nods.

“You sure?”

“Um, yeah! I mean, i-if you’re okay with it…”

“Of course I’m okay with it.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

“It is.” He waits for her to let him in her room, but she doesn’t move. “Um, so…”

The shouting from downstairs makes Basden trail off. It reaches a height, and he watches Pauline stiffen. She hides behind the door a little more, looks at him with worry shining in her eyes. It strikes him how young she looks, how scared she is, and he feels a twinge.

“Dad?” She asks, slowly.

“Yes?”

“When you, um, when you came home early… did you really get…?”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but the word still hangs between them: _kidnapped._ Basden has really tried not to think about it since he got back, tried not to remember the toilet stall he was held in, or the flashlight sweeping across the dark cells, or the coldness or the fear or the screams of a man he _saw Alcor burn to death_ \- it was all so strange, so violent, so, so far away from his ordinary life.

Like a bad dream, it feels unreal. It feels like Gaston is right, like there’s no way it actually happened, _like he’s being ridiculous…_ and he’d feel so much better if he could just say that.

But he looks down the hallway, and he sees a darkness staring him down from the foot of Marla’s door, and he can’t.

“...to my _twelve year old daughter!”_ Janet’s voice rings out loud, and jolts him out of his thoughts. He looks back to Pauline, who hasn’t said a word, and tries for another smile.

“It’s, um, complicated, kid. Why I came back.” Basden rubs his neck. “But mostly, I-I did it ‘cause I missed my family.”

She frowns at him. “Really?”

“Really. I was a whole ocean away from you guys, and I got homesick. I wanted to see you so much, I just couldn’t wait a week.”

“That’s weirdly impatient of you.”

“Heh, I guess it was, but I wasn’t staying there a second longer.” He reaches out and touches her shoulder, draws her into a hug. “I needed my family.”

“I need you too.” Pauline holds him tight, speaks in muffled tones through his shirt. “Don’t get kidnapped, Dad.”

Basden pats her back. He pats her back, and looks over at the golden eyes peering at him from the end of the hallway.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

She squeezes him even tighter, and that makes him want to smile. He doesn’t, though; it doesn’t feel natural.

Not when he’s being watched.

Basden glances over at the demon sitting alone in the shadows. Its stare makes him squirm even more than before; there’s something new in it, he sees… or something familiar. It brings him back to the kidnapping nightmare, back to the demon cornering him in the bathroom stall, demanding Mizar, _I want Mizar, GIVE HER TO ME..._

He sees that same hunger now, in the way it watches them embrace.

It sends the same shiver up his spine, and he draws back. Clears his throat. Smiles down at Pauline, and motions to her door.

“Well, um,” he starts. “That was that... L-let’s have a look at that homework now, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for emotional abuse and body horror.


End file.
